n "n - W illi n : ■*i« M^""^ l |n 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



ChapH2.S.:Xopyright No... 
Slielf„,5-4_4. 



UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



1 



THE BODLEY BOOKS. 



This series of books consists of five volumes, each independent of the others, but since the 
characters are the same in all there is a natural connection between them, and the order of 
their appearance indicates also the gradual growth of the children who make up the younger 
members of the Bodley Family. The series is as follows : — 

I. DOINGS OF THE BODLEY FAMILY IN TOWN AND COUNTRY. 

This contains some of the doings of Nathan, Philippa, and Lucy Bodley, their father and 
mother, the hired man Martin, and Nathan's Cousin Ned, upon their removal from Boston 
to Roxbury. It introduces, also, Nathan's pig, the dog Neptune, Lucy's kitten, Lucy's doll, 
Mr. Bottom the horse, chickens, mice; it has stories told to the children by their parents, 
by Martin, and by each other. Martin's brother Hen is referred to occasionally. 

II. THE BODLEY S TELLING STORIES. 

In this book Nathan's cousin, Ned Adams, a young collegian, is shown as much of the 
time living with his cousins, and Nurse Young becomes a part of the family. The children 
are entertained with a good many stories, especially from American history; they have a 
Mother Goose party, and go on a journey to Cape Cod. Hen remains in the background. 

III. THE BODLEY S ON WHEELS. 

The family enter a carryall and drive, accompanied by Ned on horseback, along the coast 
of Massachusetts Bay from Boston to Gloucester, and thence, through Ipswich and Rowley, 
to Newburyport, and so home again. Their drive leads them through historic places and by 
spots made famous in poetry and legend. On their arrival home they find Martin's brother 
Hen in the barn, just back from a long voyao-e. 

IV. THE BODLEY S AFOOT. 

Hen entertains the children with yarns, and, Ned Adams suddenly appearing, it is pro- 
posed that he and Nathan should take a walk to New York. They set out by Declliam and 
the old road to Hartford, through Pomfret ; but at Hartford, where they stay a few days 
with some old relatives, they are joined by Mrs. Bodley, Phippy, and Lucy, who go down 
the Connecticut River with them to Saybrook, and then go back to Boston, leaving the boys 
to continue their walk to New York. They are stopped, however, at New Haven, by a dis- 
patch from Mr. Bodley, which brings them back at once by rail. 

V. MR. BODLEY ABROAD. 

The reason of the dispatch is that Mr. Bodley is unexpectedly called to Europe, and in 
this final volume of the series he goes abroad, while the rest of the family at first vo for a 
fortnight to Cape Cod, and then return to Roxbury. Mr. Bodley does not return till Thanks- 
giving time, but he writes letters home, and, after he returns, tells stories of Europe. The 
children, besides, have their own journeys and adventures, so that Europe and America ap- 



pear in equal proportions. Mrs. Bodley, who stays at home, has been to Europe before, so 
that she is able to enlarge on what Mr. Bodley writes home, and Hen, who has gone off on a 
voyage, stumbles upon Mr. Bodley abroad, and comes back before him with fresh yarns. 

The time of the five stories is about 1848-1852. 



A NEW BODLEY SEEIES. 

It was intimated at the close of Mr. Bodley Abroad that the children might themselves go 
to Europe when they had grown up. It is not surprising, therefore, to find that thirty years 
after the days when they were Bodley children they had children of their own, and thus a 
new series of adventures and stories have begun. Nathan and Phippy Bodley, having married 
a sister and brother, are now the heads of families themselves, and a new career opens in 

I. THE BODLEY GRANDCHILDREN 

AND THEIR JOURNEY IN HOLLAND, 

the first volume of the second series. In this volume the two families, with the grand- 
children, start from New York, after first making themselves acquainted with the doings of 
their Dutch ancestors there in the days of New Amsterdam, and spend several weeks in 
Holland, seeing sights, taking an object lesson in history, and especially making the connection 
between American history and Dutch history. They are Americans visiting Europe not 
merely for the pleasure of travel, but for the purpose of tracing back the footprints of their 
ancestors. 

II. THE ENGLISH BODLEY FAMILY. 
After a summer spent in Holland, the grandchildren and their parents go to England with 
their appetite whetted for new feasts in historic fields. By a singular chance they fall in with 
an English family bearing the name of Bodley. Their long-lost ancestors have been found, 
and the descendants of these ancestors, though' very distant cousins, prove to be hospitable 
and friendly. The autumn is spent in historic pilgrimages, and the connection between 
English and American life, as discovered by youngsters of both nations, gives an interna- 
tional character to the story. 

The time is the summer and autumn of 1881. 

III. THE VIKING BODLEYS. 
The family party, with the exception of their Cousin Ned, after a winter spent in Italy, 
return to England and cross the North Sea to Christiania. They go as far north in Norway 
as anybody c°an go, and then return after having done their best to discover their Viking an- 
cestors among the fjords of Norway. From Christiania they go to Copenhagen, visit the 
haunts of Andersen and enjoy Denmark. They have now, after seeing Scandinavia, got at 
the earliest European life which was connected with America, and they return home, never 
again to set forth on their rambling journeys. This is the last of the Bodleys. 

The time is the summer of 1882. 




COURTYARD OF VICTORIA HOTEL. 



THE VIKING- BODLEYS 



AN EXCURSION INTO NORWAY AND 
DENMARK 



BY 



^ 



y 



HORACE E. SCUDDER 



AUTHOR OF THE BODLEY BOOKS 



WITH ILLUSTRATIONS 




BOSTON 
HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY 

New York: 11 East Seventeenth Street 
Clje Bitoersttie Press, dDambriJg* 

1885 



JtSTo 



THE LIBRARY 
or CONGRESS 

WASHINGTON 



Copyright, 1884, 
BY HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO. 

All rights reserved. 



The Riverside Press, Cambridge : 
Electrotyped and Printed by II. 0. Houghton & Co. 




CONTENTS. 



CHAPTER PAGE 

I. PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD 9 

II. CHRISTIANIA 23 

III. DUE NORTH 39 

IV. THE MIDNIGHT SUN 53 

V. SOUTHWARD BOUND . 75 

VI. ACROSS LOTS 93 

VII. OVER THE FILLEFJELD 109 

VIII. THE HOME OF ANDERSEN 129 

IX. RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN .145 

X. BERTEL THORWALDSEN . 159 

XL ANDERSEN'S BIRTH-PLACE 173 

XII. THE END OF JOURNEYING 185 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



CHAPTER I. 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. 




LITTLE party sat on the deck of the 
Rollo, which lay, with steam up, in the 
dock at Hull, just casting off for a short 
voyage. It was the pleasant end of the 
last day of June, 1882, and the calm sky 
promised an agreeable passage across the 
much-dreaded North Sea. It was not yet 
dark, and the American travelers — for such they 
were — watched the progress of events with inter- 
est. The Rollo was a long while getting out of the 
dock, two other boats being in advance. A series of wooden piers 
extended down the middle of the dock, to enable ships to warp 
out, and a boatman rowed to one after another, taking the Rollo's 
hawser, making it fast, and afterward casting it off. At last the 
final gate was passed, the tug which had been lending a helping 
hand turned aside, and the Rollo steamed down the Humber. 

" Charles is getting ready to ask a question," said Sarah Van 
Wyck, the growing young girl of the party, the little snubber, as 



10 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

her cousin sometimes called her. " I can see it in his contempla- 
tive face." 

"He inherits the faculty of asking questions, Sarah," said her 
mother. " Your Uncle Nathan and I used to be called the bothering 
Bodleys, because we were always teasing to find out something." 

" That is the reason, Aunt Phippy," said Charles Bodley, " why 
you and father can always answer our questions now. If you had 
not bothered grandfather and grandmother, you would be always 
making us read books, instead of telling us what we want to know. 
I like to find out things from people a great deal better than to 
read about them in books." 

"If we don't forget what is told us," said Sarah, "we shall be 
mines of information to our children. Just think ! We know all 
that our fathers and mothers have told us, and they knew what 
grandfather and grandmother told them." 

" Don't put us to the test," laughed Mr. Yan Wyck. " To be 
sure, I am to be counted out, for I had not the benefit of a Bodley 
education, and had gained my small stock of knowledge by more 
painful means." 

" We had the ' Rollo Books,' Philip," said Mrs. Bodley, who was 
his sister. 

" Yes, we had the ' Rollo Books/ Blandina, but so had the Bod- 
leys." 

" Now that reminds me," said Charles. " I was not going to ask 
a question at all, as Sarah supposed. I was going to make a philo- 
sophical remark. Cousin Ned Adams used to have a good deal to 
say about the influence of the New World upon the Old. I 'd like 
to know if it is n't a fine thing for a steamer running between 
Hull and Christiania to be named after a boy in an American story- 
book ! " Mr. Bodley laughed. 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. 11 

" Are you sure the boy was not named after the steamer ? " he 
asked. 

" I always did wonder," said Mr. Van Wyck, " how Mr. Abbott 
came to name his very peaceful and reasonable Rollo after the old 
Northman." 

" By some law of contrasts, I suppose," said his wife ; " but I am 
not sure that I know exactly who Rollo was, Philip. Did he come 
from Norway ? " 

" He belonged to the race who have Nor in their name, but when 
he came to settle down after his rude rovings, he softened into a 
Norman. Rollo was his Latinized name. He was Rolf Ganger, or 
Rolf the Goer, when he was a Northman, and the French called 
him Rou. That is where Rouen gets its name, I suppose, for it was 
the capital of the duchy which Charles, the King of the West 
Franks, gave him, when Rolf was baptized and married Charles's 
daughter. I fancy that Rolf did not lose all his old Norse blood 
when he was softened into Rou and Rollo, for the story goes that 
when he received his duchy he was bidden to kneel and kiss Charles's 
feet, in token of allegiance to the king. But Rolf stoutly refused 
to kiss any man's feet, and told one of his soldiers to do it for him. 
The soldier, thereupon, not having had experience in courtly ways, 
seized the king's foot and raised it to his lips. The poor king, who 
was sitting on his throne, was nearly tipped over backward by such 
a rough salute. The soldier, you see, should have kneeled." 

" There was not much likeness between old Rollo and our friend," 
said Sarah. " But, father, why was he called the Goer ? Did he 
go it all over Norway ? " 

" He was called the Goer, because he had such long legs that 
when he mounted one of the little Norwegian horses his feet touched 



12 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

the ground. The Northmen had a great way of nicknaming each 
other, and I suspect the biggest of them laughed at Rolf when he 
first set off: on the back of a horse, and called him Rolf Ganger the 
rest of his days." 

" And now his name is Rollo the Steamer," said Charles. " Such 
are the changes of history ! " 

" And we are all visiting Rolf's old home," said Sarah, in the 
same philosophic tone, " and have come to it from beyond the seas. 
It is the return of the Vikings." 

" Yes," said her mother; "your Uncle Nathan has always wanted 
to get back to the very beginningest of American history, and I am 
sure he is on his way when he goes to the fjords of Norway." 

" Don't let us go too fast," said Mr. Bodley. " While you have 
been talking all this nonsense I have been trying to make out the 
shore line in this dusky light. Do you know, we cannot be far 
from the place where our Pilgrim ancestors tried to make their es- 
cape from England in 1607. They had bargained with a Dutch 
captain, who had a ship at Hull and was going back to Holland, to 
take them in at a point between Grimsby and Hull. Bradford says 
there was a large common there a good way from any town. I 
suppose he means an open tract of land where any one might go. 
They could not board the vessel at Hull, for the authorities had 
once before stopped them when they tried to sail from Boston. So 
they sent the women and children and goods down the river in a 
boat, while the men went by land, very likely in small companies 
and in the night-time. Everything turned out wrong. The water 
was rough, and the women and children were so sick that they per- 
suaded the seamen, who took the boat down, to put into a creek and 
lie there in quiet water. The ship came along the next morning, 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. 13 

but unfortunately it was low tide, and the boat with the women 
and children could not get out of the creek. Meanwhile the men 
were on the shore, out of reach of the women, and the captain 
thought he would better be getting them on board while he was 
waiting for the tide to float the boat off, so he sent his own boat 
for the men. He had brought off one boat-load, and was about to 
send back the boat for another, when he saw a great company of 
armed men, some on horse and some on foot, coming across the 
country. It was clear that the news of this exodus had spread, and 
the Egyptians were after the poor Israelites. The Dutchman was 
no Moses, however. He hoisted his anchor, swore a big oath, set 
his sail, and was off for Holland. He had no mind to get into a 
scrape, and cared very little, apparently, for the poor Pilgrims." 

" But what became of the poor fellows who were left on shore ? " 
asked Sarah. 

" And what became of the women and children ? " asked Charles. 

" And what became of those who were carried off by the Dutch- 
man ? " asked Aunt Blandina. 

" And what became of the Dutchman himself ? " asked Aunt 
Phippy. 

" And what is to become of us, if you answer all these ques- 
tions ? " asked Mr. Van Wyck. 

" Have patience," said the story-teller. " You shall hear all. We 
are now, let us say, steaming past the flat land where the rest of 
the men were left. "We can't see it, but it lies off yonder, where 
that dim light is on shore. When the Dutchman sailed away, the 
men who were left behind, seeing the plight they were in, scat- 
tered in various directions, a few only remaining to help the women 
and children as best they might. These, poor things, were helpless 



14 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

enough. They fell to weeping and wringing their hands ; < their 
poor little ones were hanging about them, crying for fear and quak- 
ing with cold,' as the old historian says. The posse of men with 
bill-hooks and guns who had scared the Dutchman away had no one 
to lay hold of but these poor women and children and the few men 
who stayed to help them. They marched them off to a magistrate, 
and he sent them to another. What to do with them no one knew. 
It never would do to put them in prison. They had no homes to 
go to, for these had all been broken up ; and so at last, after the 
poor things had endured all kinds of trouble, they were left to shift 
for themselves, and made their way, one by one way, one by an- 
other, till they had joined their husbands in Holland." 

" Then their husbands did get to Holland ? " 

" Yes, though they had a sore time of it on the way. They met 
a terrible storm, and were driven about the North Sea for fourteen 
days before they reached their port. They came close to the coast 
of Norway, and for a week saw neither sun, moon, nor stars. The 
sailors gave up more than once, and I suppose the Dutchman had 
some bad moments, thinking he was being punished for his coward- 
ice, but the Pilgrims kept up their courage, and prayed to God, and 
cheered on the sailors much as the Apostle Paul did in his ship- 
wreck." 

" And was that the way the Pilgrim Fathers left England ? " 
asked Charles. 

" Yes. Their troubles began at the start, but I think the failure 
of their attempt to make one general removal led them to get away 
after that singly and in small companies, so as to escape observa- 
tion." 

" What stories the old men in Plymouth must have had to tell to 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. 



15 



their grandchildren ! " said Mrs. Bodley. " I fancy they must have 
thought very often of St. Paul's words, i in perils of waters, in perils 
of robbers, in perils by my own countrymen, in perils by the hea- 
then, in perils in the city, in perils in the wilderness, in perils in 
the sea.' " 




v\ 





The Vikings crossing the North Sea. 



" There is not much peril in this sea," said Charles. 

"Not on this voyage," said his father, " but the North Sea is gen- 
erally a terror to travelers. I have crossed it when it was in a very 
disorderly state." 



16 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

The Rollo had steamed well past the scene of the Pilgrims' ad- 
venture. The twilight, which still lingered, gave way slowly to 
night, and the air was so quiet and cool that all were loth to turn 
in for the night. They sat, a little group, by themselves, and soon 
the talk drifted back to Rollo and the Norse-folk. 

" This is a peaceful voyage," said Mr. Van Wyck, " but I should 
think the good people of Hull must have looked out once upon the 
Humber with a deal of anxiety when they heard that the Vikings 
had been seen coming toward the coast." 

" Yes, I always think of them as great birds of prey, swooping 
across the North Sea and pouncing down upon the English coast," 
said his wife. 

" They must have had that look, Phippy, with their high-beaked 
vessels, and their broad sails. When they wished to make a pro- 
digious onset they lashed three vessels together. The prow some- 
times bore a dragon's head, or a serpent's ; for when men make a 
great deal of fighting, I have noticed that they are very apt to 
make common cause with animals, and call themselves lions or tigers 
or serpents or hawks or eagles or vultures or panthers or wild-cats 
or" — 

" Do stop, Uncle Philip, before you have named a whole menage- 
rie," said Charles. 

" Very well, I '11 stop ; but I beg you all to notice what pleasure 
we take in looking on, at the safe distance of eight hundred years 
or so, at those dreadful Vikings who used to cross this North Sea in 
their Berserker rage. It is the very gentlest of our poets who has 
turned the old sagas into musical verse. Think of Longfellow look- 
ing out of his window upon the winding Charles, with its mud-scows 
and stone-sloops, and writing the poems in which he sets forth King 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. -in 

Olaf and his doughty deeds ! It is the contrast that delights me 
Listen, while I repeat his poem." 

THE BUILDING OF THE LONG SERPENT. 

Thorberg Skafting, master-builder, 

In his ship-yard by the sea, 
Whistling, said, "It would bewilder 
Any man but Thorberg Skafting, 

Any man but me!" 

Near him lay the Dragon stranded, 

Built of old by Raud the Strong, 
And King Olaf had commanded 
He should build another Dragon 

Twice as large and long. 

Therefore whistled Thorberg Skafting, 

As he sat with half-closed eyes, 
And his head turned sideways, drafting 
That new vessel for King Olaf 

Twice the Dragon's size. 

Round him busily hewed and hammered 

Mallet huge and heavy axe ; 
Workmen laughed and sang and clamored ; 
Whirred the wheels, that into rigging 

Spun the shining flax ! 

All this tumult heard the master,— 

It was music to his ear ; 
Fancy whispered all the faster, 
" Men shall hear of Thorberg Skafting 
For a hundred year ! " 

Workmen sweating at the forges 
Fashioned iron bolt and bar, 



2 



lg THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Like a warlock's midnight orgies 
Smoked and bubbled the black cauldron 
With the boiling tar. 

Did the warlocks mingle in it, 

Thorberg Skafting, any curse ? 
Could you not be gone a minute 
But some mischief must be doing, 
Turning bad to worse ? 

'T was an ill wind that came wafting, 

From his homestead words of woe ; 
To his farm went Thorberg Skafting, 
Oft repeating to his workmen 
Build ye thus and so. 

After long delays returning 

Came the master back by night ; 
To his ship-yard longing, yearning, 
Hurried he, and did not leave it 
Till the morning's light. 

" Come and see my ship, my darling ! " 
On the morrow said the king ; 

"Finished now from keel to carling ; 
Never yet was seen in Norway 
Such a wondrous thing ! " 

In the ship-yard, idly talking, 

At the ship the workmen stared : 
Some one, all their labor balking, 
Down her sides had cut deep gashes, 
Not a plank was spared ! 

"Death be to the evil-doer!" 

With an oath King Olaf spoke; 
"But rewards to his pursuer! " 
And with wrath his face grew redder 
Than his scarlet cloak. 



PILGRIMS GOING BACKWARD. 19 

Straight the master-builder, smiling, 

Answered thus the angry King : 
" Cease blaspheming and reviling, 
Olaf, it was Thorberg Skafting 

Who has done this thing ! " 

Then he chipped and smoothed the planking, 

Till the King, delighted, swore, 
With much lauding and much thanking, 
" Handsomer is now my Dragon 
Than she was before ! " 

Seventy ells and four extended 

On the grass the vessel's keel ; 
High above it, gilt and splendid, 
Rose the figure-head ferocious 

With its crest of steel. 

Then they launched her from the tressels, 

In the ship-yard by the sea ; 
She was the grandest of all vessels, 
Never ship was built in Norway 

Half so fine as she ! 

The Long Serpent was she christened, 

'Mid the roar of cheer on cheer ! 
They who to the Saga listened 
Heard the name of Thorberg Skafting 

For a hundred year ! 

" After all," said Mr. Bodley, " there is not so very terrible a pic- 
ture drawn. It is a New England ship-builder and a Boston mer- 
chant who are represented, with a little veneer of antique rage." 

" But I don't understand who cut and gashed the Long Serpent," 
said Charles. " Thorberg says he did it, but why should he have 
done it ? or why should he have said he did, if he did not ? " 



20 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" I suspect," said his uncle, " that the mysterious hints of some 
warlock, or wizard, are intended to intimate that the mischief was 
done when Thorberg was away, and that he took the blame on 
himself to defeat the purpose of the wizard ; but I confess I am not 
learned enough in this lore to give a satisfactory explanation. It is 
well that our pleasure in poetry is not measured by the accuracy 
with which every point is made." 

" Did the Vikings ever really reach America ? " asked Sarah of 
her father. 

" Fortunately we do not know, Sarah," he replied. " There is a 
delightful uncertainty about the matter, and we can discuss it and 
inquire into it to our heart's content. The probability is very great 
that they did land on our coast ; but although the Northmen had a 
very powerful influence on Europe, the time had not come for Amer- 
ica to be discovered for settlement. Greenland was long a part of 
Europe ; it is only in modern times that it has come to be placed on 
a map of the Western Hemisphere." 

" How differently we must look as we return to Norway," said 
Mrs. Van Wyck, " from what our Viking ancestors did when they 
came to America ; for I insist upon it, we are going back to hunt 
for our Viking ancestors." 

" And very rightly, Phippy," said her brother. " The Northmen 
or Danes, for they were all one people, made very decided settle- 
ments on the east coast of England. All those towns whose names 
end in by " — 

" Grimsby," said Charles. 

" Yes, Grimsby is a case in point. The by is Norse for town, and 
the by towns show the marks of their Norse origin. Now our Pil- 
grim fathers came from Scrooby and neighborhood, and may easily 




NATHAN BODLEY IN THE CHARACTER OF A VIKING. 



CHRISTIANIA. 23 

have been of Norse descent, so that we can trace through them, if 
we do not wish to make a violent leap to Thorfinn and the rest." 

" Imagine Uncle Nathan as a Viking ! " said Sarah. 

" I should probably wear a belted shirt, Sarah, and carry a shield 
and sword, and a horn. I should wear a sort of metal helmet, and 
instead of a scarf pin carry an eagle, which your Aunt Blandina 
would embroider on my shirt-front. And all little girls would be 
terribly afraid of me." 

" Well, we bring back the Eagle, at any rate," said Charles. 

" Even if we do sail for the time being under the Union-jack, and 
are protected by the Lion and the Unicorn." 

" Do you know what time it is ? " suddenly asked Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" It is the tenth or eleventh century," said Mrs. Bodley. 

" It is the tenth or eleventh hour, Phippy, and your child and 
mine ought to be abed." And to bed went the Vikings, old and 



CHAPTER II. 

CHEISTIANIA. 



All day Saturday the Rollo was crossing the North Sea, and the 
passengers sat comfortably in steamer chairs or walked the deck, 
and read, chatted, played checkers, or crocheted and knit. It was 
a summer sea over which they were steaming, and it was hard to 
believe that so often the waves were churned into a mighty pother. 
There was no adventure. One or two wearied sparrows lit upon the 
deck and dropped their little tails in an exhausted fashion ; the 



24 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

other steamer of the line was passed midway, bound to Hull, and 
various sail were discerned near or far. 

Saturday passed, but when the passengers woke on Sunday they 
had reached the Norwegian coast. Charles, raising himself in his 
berth, looked out of the port-hole, and saw cold, rough rocks within 
biscuit-throw. He occupied the same state-room with his father, 
and they were shortly on deck, where the others joined them. It 
was only seven o'clock, and the steamer was making fast to the pier 
at Christiansand. They fortified themselves with coffee, and finding 
there was an hour to wait, went ashore and sauntered through the 
town. The first glimpse of a new country always quickens the 
traveler's sense. He expects so much more strangeness than he 
finds ; he does not take into account the likeness that man has to 
his neighbor. There was at first glance a curious suggestion of New 
England in the plain wooden houses which they saw. Except for 
their tiled roofs, the houses would have been at home in a Maine 
village. There was one difference, however ; nearly every window 
had plants in pots. The houses and shops were mingled together, 
the shops distinguished only by modest signs and small show of 
goods in the windows. 

" How few people there are about," said Charles. 

" What would you have ? " asked Sarah. " It is only seven o'clock, 
and Sunday morning too. Don't you suppose they breakfast half 
an hour later Sunday morning in Christiansand ? I wonder, though, 
why they have so many shops for the sale of oil." 

" You must begin your Norwegian studies, Sarah," said her father. 
" That is ale or beer that looks on the signs like oil." 

The streets were straight and broad, and the little town was 
quickly surveyed. They came to a bridge crossing an arm of the 



CHRISTIAN1A. 25 

sea, and on the other side found themselves more in the country. 
They followed a little lane which led to a pile of rocks where a poor 
farmer was raising a few cabbages, and from the top of the rocks 
they had a pretty extensive view of the town and surrounding coun- 
try. The sky was overcast, and the view was a somewhat dreary 
one. 

" This is not the country in which to look for large towns," said 
Mr. Van Wyck. " Christiansand is one of the larger sort, but it is 
not so large that one could easily be lost in it." 

" We must go back to the boat," said his prudent sister ; " but 
I suppose that if we were to spend the summer here and get 
acquainted with the people, we should get very much attached 
to Christiansand, and be sorry to leave." 

" What a charitable imagination you have, Blandina ! " 

" Mother never wants to leave a place," said Charles. " She al- 
ways begins to think about the people and how they live, and adopts 
one or two forlorn children, and then she is ready to settle down for 
the rest of her life." 

The party found the Rollo ready to leave the pier when they re- 
turned, and when they went below to breakfast the boat had already 
steamed out of the harbor. All day long they coasted, sometimes 
near, sometimes at a distance from the land. The smaller steamers 
ran in and out among the islands, calling at fishing villages and 
little stations, but the Rollo made its way, without stopping, to 
Christiania. At dinner-time it passed round the point into Christi- 
ania fjord, and then land could be seen on either side, the shores 
gradually drawing closer together. For the most part pine-clad, 
rocky hills rose with more or less abruptness from the fjord, though 
now and then some gentle slope would appear, some nicely kept 
place, or a little village would peep from behind an island. 



26 THE VIKING. BODLEYS. 

" So this is a fjord," said Sarah, after they had been sitting some 
time in silence. " I always wanted to see a fjord since I read Miss 
Martineau's ' Feats on the Fjord.' " 

" I don't think we see the characteristic fjord landscape here, Sa- 
rah. We must wait until we get farther north." 

" But, Uncle Nathan, what is a fjord ? what makes a fjord ? why 
do not we have them in America ? " 

" If we had mountains coming down to the sea, with arms of the 
sea running up into the land, we should have them. The word is 
the same as firth or frith in Scotland. The Frith of Forth is a fjord." 

" I suppose it is the fret of the sea," said Mr. Van Wyck, " or the 
land fretted by the sea." 

" But why are not the lamps in the light-houses lighted ? " asked 
Charles. 

" What need ? It is daylight still, though it is past eleven o'clock. 
They put out their lights on the coast when summer-time comes, 
but they make up for it by keeping them lighted a long time when 
winter returns." Not a light was to be seen in the city which now 
lay before them, dimly descried, to be sure, for the sky was over- 
cast, and it was not so light at this hour as it might otherwise have 
been. As the Hollo rounded an island and came within the inner 
harbor, the people on board the steamer could make out the build- 
ings, and could see persons moving about the streets and on the 
quay. The tide was high, and the Kollo, as it was warped up to the 
quay, towered high above it. 

Our little party was somewhat taken by surprise. They had been 
so occupied with watching the shore and trying to make out the ob- 
jects in the strange twilight, that it had not occurred to them, until 
just as they came near the quay, that they need not pass another 



CHRISTIANIA. 27 

night on board the steamer, and now they hurried together their 
wraps and small articles, meaning to leave their larger pieces on 
board until the morrow, while they made their way to the Victoria 
Hotel for the rest of the night. With other passengers, they passed 
down the steep gangway to the pier. It was nearly twelve o'clock. 
The streets were lively with people walking about ; even small chil- 
dren were out, but no lamps were lit. 

" Do you suppose all these people are homeless ? " half-whispered 
Sarah to her cousin. 

" They are probably all returning from various excursions into 
the country, Sarah," said her father, who overheard her. 

" But how spectral it is," said Mrs. Van Wyck, in a low voice. 
" These people look like ghosts, gliding along the streets. Will it 
be no darker than this to-night ? " 

" No. It will remain very much like this for an hour, when it 
will begin to grow lighter again." 

"It is not exactly twilight," returned Mrs. Van Wyck. "I can't 
describe it, but there is a mystery over everything. All the shades 
are deepened. Look at those green trees ; they have almost a pur- 
plish tinge." 

" Yes," said her husband. " It is as if Nature drew a veil over 
her face, and you could not quite make out her features." 

It was not a long walk to the hotel, and the party was soon dis- 
tributed for the night. They drew shutters and curtains and dark- 
ened their rooms, that they might not wake too early, but some- 
thing in the fresh, exhilarating air made long sleep impossible, so 
that they were all at breakfast in good season, and ready to see 
Christiania. The city itself did not detain them very long. They 
walked up the broad Carl Johann Gade, and looked at the outside of 



28 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



the palace, which stood on an elevation at the head of the way, and 
they stopped to look at the statue of the Norwegian poet Werge- 
land, which had been erected the year before, and was still shining 
in the brightness of new bronze. 

"How new everything is," said Charles. " I thought Christiania 
would look like an old place." 

" We are in the newer part of the town," said his father ; " but I 
suspect this northern air preserves buildings, and makes even the 
old ones look young. I think we get into the way of fancying that 




A Street in Christiania. 



all European towns were made several hundred years ago and have 
not been touched since." 

In their walk about town they stumbled upon one quaint and old- 
fashioned street, and they entered a church where workmen were 
making repairs. It was filled with staging and platforms so that 
they could see but little, though, to be sure, there seemed little to 
see. One oddity was a private box for the royal family, perched up 
against the side of the wall vis-a-vis with the pulpit, so that the 



CHR1STIANIA. 29 

royal family must certainly receive all the sermons full in the face ; 
but then it was furnished with glass windows, and in case of a se- 
vere pelting it would only be necessary to close the windows. They 
visited the Viking ship also, which had been dug up a couple of 
years before at Sandefjord. It was under cover of a shed which 
had been built over it, and the various fragments found about it had 
been carefully preserved. 

" It is only the bones of the poor old vessel ! " said Mrs. Van 
Wyck. " How long did you say it had been buried, Philip ? " 

" It is estimated that it was buried eight hundred or a thousand 
years ago." 

" No doubt," said Mr. Boclley, "it is one of the very boats which 
used to make their way to Vinland." 

" But how did it get buried, father ? " asked Charles. 

" The explanation is, that when one of the great Vikings died, his 
boat was dragged up upon the shore, his body was placed upon it 
with his weapons, and the whole covered with a mound. The ear- 
liest were burned, but after Christianity came in burning gave way 
to burial. Horses and oxen were sacrificed. They hung war shields 
upon the vessel, also." 

" But this boat can't be as large as the Long Serpent," said 
Charles. 

" No. This vessel is less than eighty feet on the keel, and the 
Long Serpent, you know, was ' seventy ells and four.' ' 

" And how much is that ? " 

" That depends on the measure. An English ell is forty-five 
inches, but an English ell is equal to one and a quarter Danish ells ; 
and if Mr. Longfellow used the Danish ell, then he used an ell of 
three feet, and the length of the Long Serpent was — how much, 
Sarah ? " 



30 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



" Two hundred and twenty- two feet," said she, promptly. 

" Just so, and that was a sizeable sort of boat." 

" I should like to have seen one of the boats all manned," said 
Charles. 

" Well, this boat had sixteen oar-holes on each side, for they de- 
pended on oars a good deal of the time, though they had sails also. 
We can imagine the Viking standing by the side of the boat and 




The Vikings setting sail. 

flourishing his sword, while his men, each with a sword and shield, 
stood about him and swore to stick by him and help carry off all 
the plunder they could find." 

After our friends had walked about Christiania, and had visited 
the art gallery, they went back to their hotel for lunch, and then 
sallied out on an excursion to Oscar's Hall. They chose to walk to 
Skarpsno on the fjord, meaning to cross in a boat to the wooded pe- 
ninsula where Oscar's Hall stands. It was a pleasant walk up Carl 



CHR1STIANIA. 31 

Johann Gade, and by half rural lanes when they had passed beyond 
the city limits. As they came to the top of a little elevation they 
found themselves by a gateway opening into a court-yard, before 
which they lingered to steal a glimpse of the pleasant bit of home- 
life which they saw. On each side of the court-yard was a long, low 
building, roofed with red tiles, and apparently used for the farm 
utensils and the cattle stalls. A fountain was playing in the middle 
of the yard, and at the end facing the gateway was the manor-house 
itself, a long, generous-looking building surmounted by a bell-cupola. 
A piazza extended along the front of the house, and a young girl 
was sitting in a comfortable chair, with some work in her hands, 
while on the grass in front three children, two boys and a little girl, 
were playing. One of them, a little fellow with a broad-brimmed 
straw hat, as soon as he caught sight of strangers at the gate, began 
running toward them as fast as his sturdy little legs would carry 
him. 

" Horace ! " they heard the maiden on the piazza call ; but Hor- 
ace paid no attention to the voice, but kept on, slackening his pace 
as he drew nearer, however. 

" I am afraid we are interfering with family discipline," said Mrs. 
Bodley. " It certainly is rather rude, too, for us to be staring in 
here at a gentleman's place. Let us move on." So they turned 
away, and presently they heard the little fellow calling loudly to the 
other little boy, — 

"Allyn! Allyn ! " 

" Well, we know two of their names," said Charles. " Horace 
does n't sound like Norwegian, but Allyn does." 

" I wish we knew the people who live there," said Sarah. " I 
should like to go inside of a real Norwegian manor-house, and that 



32 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

looks like a very substantial and comfortable old place. Did you 
notice that the Norwegian young lady on the piazza had a lap-robe 
over her and was propped up in her chair ? " 

" Yes, and she did not chase the little boy," said Charles. 

" Of course she would not, if she could," said his cousin. " Young 
ladies don't rush after small boys, when they run away." 

Their walk brought them to the foot of the hill, to Skarpsno, 
where they crossed a railway track and found themselves on the 
bank of the fjord, with Oscar's Hall in full view upon the opposite 
side of the stream. While waiting for the ferry-boat to return 
from the other side, they saw some boys come out of a bathing- 
house which stood near the boat-landing. One of them was about 
Charles's age, and as he passed them Charles declared he heard him 
talking English. 

" Very likely," said his father, " for English is taught in the Nor- 
wegian schools. Run after him, Charles, and ask him whose house 
it was that we passed.' 5 

Charles stepped quickly along, and came back in a moment. 

" He says it is called Frogner, and he lives there. I think his 
name is Hermann, for the other boy called him so, or else he said 
something about Hermann Street, but I could n't make it out. I 
know the Norwegian for street." 

" You are making rapid progress in Norwegian, Charles," said his 
father, laughing. " You have learned one word already." 

" I should think he would have talked with you," said Sarah, " if 
he could speak English. Why did n't you ask him some more ques- 
tions and draw him out, Charles ? " 

" I would have, but the other boy kept jabbering in Norwegian." 

" We shall see him again," said Sarah, philosophically. " We al- 
ways do see them again in our travels." 



CHRISTIANIA. 



35 



They were soon ferried across to the promontory on which Oscar's 
Hall stood, in a little park. It was a white, castellated building on 
a small scale, perched on a wooded knoll, and surmounted by a 
tower. It was built originally in the middle of the century by 
King Oscar for his son, but sold by his son, King Carl XV., to the 
Storthing, or Norwegian congress, which holds it as a piece of pub- 
lic property. The building itself has little to commend it, except 
its trimness and neatness, but it offers fine views from the tower, 



-,/-.: :} : ::Ci- ii~ 



-•■sBb^H^PWms,-* ■■■■ 




Oscar's Hall. 



and it has a collection of characteristic Norwegian pictures and stat- 
ues, as well as a number of portraits of the various members of the 
ruling family. The most interesting of the pictures was a series 
by a Norwegian artist named Tidemand, representing characteristic 
scenes from peasant life. 

" It is a whole history, is it not ? " said Mrs. Van Wyck. " See ! 
here are two children playing in the sand. Then the same chil- 
dren have grown in the next picture." 



36 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Yes, and then they are married," said Charles, " and the bridal 
procession, I suppose it is, is escorting them to their home, and here 
is the first child in the cradle." 

" Now I will take up the parable," said Mr. Bodley. " Here is 
the first sorrow, and here is the mother teaching the little girl, while 
the father initiates the boy into the mystery of fishing." 

" My friends," said Mr. Van Wyck, " behold the adieus given to 
the last to leave the home, and the old couple comforting each other 
in their loneliness by reading the Bible aloud." 

" You must not make fun of the pictures, Philip," said his sister. 
" They make a charming series, and they tell such interesting sto- 
ries. I think if we went no farther into Norway than this, we could 
say that we had seen Norwegian life." 

" As for that, Blandina," said her husband, " we might even bet- 
ter have stayed in America and read Bjornstjerne Bjornson's stories. 
They seem to be more strictly native than Tidemand's pictures. 
These pictures are painted as a German might paint them, but 
Bjornson has given an air of reality and poetry to his stories of 
peasant life which does not make us think of Auerbach or any other 
German story-teller." 

" That is very true," said Mr. Van "Wyck, " but Blandina is right 
in thinking that even a glimpse of Norway helps one to understand 
Norwegian art. If we had seen Tidemand's pictures in America, we 
should not have seen them half so clearly as we see them now 
by Christiania fjord, and every hour almost since we touched at 
Christiansand, I have been reminded of Bjornson, though we have 
scarcely seen anything as yet of real peasant life." 

" Bjornson learned his art at home. Tidemand learned his at 
Dusseldorf. That makes the difference," said Mr. Bodley, senten- 
tiously. 



CHRISTIANIA. 



61 



It was half-after eight before the party returned to Skarpsno, yet 
the sun was still above the horizon. It seemed strange indeed to 
have such long, leisurely days, and to feel for once, Mrs. Bodley 
said, that there was plenty of time for everything. 

" Blandina would like 
to do her house-cleaning 
in Norway, I am sure," 
said Mrs. Van Wyck. 
" Then she would be able 
to catch up with her work, 
and she could see to do 
it." 

" We shall have more 
daylight still when we go 
to the North Cape, Phip- 
py," said Mrs. Bodley. 

There was one further 
excursion which the par- 
ty took when they were 
in Christiania. They 
drove to the top of a hill, 
six or seven miles from 
the town, from which they 
were told they should 
have a fine view. 

" Do you know what the place is, Sarah ? " asked her father 
learned something when I was reading the guide-book." 

" Somebody said it was Frognersaeter, and the name sounded half 
familiar." 




Bjomstjerne Bjornson. 



I 



38 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



"No wonder, for the first half of the word was familiar. The 
hill, or perhaps only the top of it, used to be a part of the estate of 
Frogner. You know we saw the manor-house of Frogner when we 
went to Oscar's Hall. The saeter is the name given " — 

"Oh, I remember now!" interrupted Sarah. "It was all in * Feats 
on the Fjord.' The saeter is where they pasture the cows in the 
summer, and the peasant girls go up there to take care of them 

and make cheese." 

" To be sure, and this place 
is still called Frognersseter, al- 
though it no longer belongs to 
Frogner, and I believe there is 
no real, bond fide saeter life there. 
It is the property of the Swiss 
consul, who is a banker ; he has 
made a kind of rustic retreat of 
it." 

The drive led them through 
almost numberless gateways, at 
each one of which was a little 
boy or girl, waiting to open the 
gate. 

" It is fortunate that I have so many ore in my pocket," said Mr. 
Bodley, " and it is very fortunate that they have a coin in Norway 
so small as an ore-piece, if there is to be a gate every few rods." 

When they came to the sseter they found a little collection of 
rustic houses, in form such as the peasants build, but finished with 
much carving, and furnished with all manner of quaint Norwegian 
articles. It was as if one were invited to a fair to see the way in 




, 



A Store-House. 



DUE NORTH. , 39 

which people lived. There was a bed built into the corner, as in 
peasant houses, but it was vastly better appointed than a poor peas- 
ant's bed would be. A balcony in front, from an upper story, gave 
a fine view, and close at hand was a store-house for grain, built after 
the fashion of peasants' store-houses, but of wood which was well 
finished and carved and oiled. For a more complete outlook, they 
drove a quarter of an hour farther to the top of the mountain, 
where there had been built an observatory of open timber. They 
climbed to the top and clung to a staff, while they enjoyed a fearful 
pleasure in looking off, for the wind was blowing a gale, and the 
observatory rocked back and forth. The fjord lay below, and moun- 
tains were behind, while pleasant valleys separated the hills, and 
Christiania was spread at their feet. 



CHAPTER III. 

DUE NORTH. 



Christiania was only a starting-point for our friends, but they 
were old enough travelers to take everything leisurely, so they loit- 
ered about the city, picking up information, accustoming themselves 
to Norwegian ways, and even making little excursions into the Nor- 
wegian tongue. Mr. Van Wyck, indeed, had read some Danish, and 
had once had lessons in the language, but he was shy about making 
experiments in speech, especially when he was with the others. 
Sometimes when he was alone he made brave attempts. To use his 



40 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

own words, he picked his way across the stream of conversation by 
means of stepping-stones of nouns and verbs. 

They were all interested in what they saw of Norwegian man- 
ners. At the hotel there chanced to be a Norwegian family, and 
after dinner the children marched up to their father, and each held 
out his hand, saying, apparently, " Thank you for the excellent din- 
ner which I have just had." The people in the streets took off their 
hats to each other and bowed very civilly, and in the shops gentle- 
men always removed their hats when they entered, and made a 
courteous farewell when they left. Our friends quickly caught these 
ways, and Charles grew so ceremonious that Sarah offered him an 
ore if he would put his hat on between one shop and the next. 

On Thursday they set off for the north. The chief part of their 
proposed excursion in Norway was to be a steamer jaunt to the 
North Cape, but they meant to avoid the long sea trip from Chris- 
tiania to Throndhjem, by taking the railway that connects the two 
towns, the only long railway in a country which is too mountainous 
U> permit that mode of travel. It was a twenty-four hours' journey, 
for though only about three hundred and fifty miles, the train runs 
slowly, makes many stops, and tarries long enough at meal-times to 
give travelers a rational meal. It was four o'clock in the afternoon 
when the train rolled slowly out of the station. The carriages 
were like those on English roads, and the party filled one com- 
partment very comfortably. At a station called Hamar they were 
called upon to change to a narrow gauge, and here, also, they took 
supper. They were a little puzzled at first, as they sat at a table, to 
know what they were to do. The table was set with plates, knives, 
forks, and napkins, and had also a provision of cheese and bread 
and butter, but there seemed to be no waiter in the room, only one 



DUE NORTH. 41 

or two girls stationed behind counters. Pretty soon, however, they 
discovered what the other passengers were doing, and followed suit. 
Each was expected to help himself. The meats and fish and vege- 
tables were at side-tables, and the passengers went about, as if they 
were at a party, with plates in their hands, filling them from this 
dish and that, till at last they bore them triumphantly to their 
places, and then set off again for cups of coffee or tea. Then, when 
they had ended the supper, they stepped to the counter, where each 
gave an account of what he had helped himself to, and paid the 
score. 

" Truly a most hospitable fashion," said Mr. Bodley, " and one 
that speaks well for the honesty of the people." 

It was, of course, still daylight, but their watches told an hour 
which would do very well for bed-time, when one was not likely to 
get a very sound sleep. There was no sleeping-car on the train, 
but fortunately they were able to secure three carriages, and that 
gave them each a seat on which to lie at full length. The railway 
company had thoughtfully supplied each carriage with two leather 
bolsters, and two rugs ; so making up a bed with their wraps and 
cloaks and coats, our six friends disposed themselves for the night. 
The train jogged along very slowly and with a great deal of jolting, 
stopping repeatedly at small stations ; indeed, there were no large 
stations the whole length of the road, and it was very evident that, 
except for the support of government, the road would be a sad 
failure. 

They were all tired enough to sleep soundly in spite of the fre- 
quent stoppages. It was always light enough, whenever any one 
woke, to see what time it was ; but at last, about six o'clock in 
the morning, they roused themselves, and though a little cramped 



42 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

and cold, were in pretty good humor when the train drew up at 
Tonsaet for breakfast. They got out from their several carriages 
and greeted each other good - morning. They found themselves 
among higher hills, and saw patches of snow lying on the tops ; nor 
did the snow again leave them on their journey to Throndhjem. It 
came down into the valleys, and was seen in large fields. They all 
gathered into one carriage again for the day's journey, and had a 
pleasant trip of it. There was a capital provision for the needs of 
travelers who always want to know where they are and how far 
they have to go. In each compartment was placed a large card 
containing a full list of all the stations, the distance from one to the 
other, the time when the train was due, and where they were to stop 
for breakfast, dinner, and supper. Besides that, each station-house 
bore on its front a large sign giving its name, its distance on one 
hand from Chris tiania, on the other from Throndhjem, and its height 
above the level of the sea. It helped to pass the time, especially 
for the children, to consult the card and their watches, and study 
the sign whenever the train stopped. 

But the country through which they passed made the day delight- 
ful. It was, as Mr. Bodley said, singularly like Berkshire County 
in Massachusetts, where they had passed many summers ; or the val- 
ley through which the Connecticut Western railway passes, bolder, 
indeed, in places, but with much the same kind of scenery. They 
overlooked deep gorges and broad valleys ; waterfalls sometimes 
foamed across the path, and they could follow the great curves by 
which they wound in and out of the broad mountain basins. A 
river, the Gula, grew wider and more smiling as they drew nearer 
to Throndhjem. At a point not far from Tyvold they passed the 
water-shed, where the streams separated, one flowing to the Chris- 



DUE NORTH. 



43 



tiania fjord, the other to the Throndhjem fjord. A great stone had 
been set up by the railroad, with an inscription recording this fact. 
There was little richness in the soil, but they passed a number of 
scattered villages, some with churches, and some having substantial 
looking farm-houses. 

"It is interesting," said Mr. Bodley, as they looked out of the 
window, " but I must say that there is, according to our ideas, an air 
of poverty rather than of comfort about these farms. Look at that 




Throndhjem. 

group of houses. You cannot tell which is the house and which the 
stable." 

" And see the turf on the roofs ! " exclaimed Charles. 

" And there is a bush growing out of the roof," added Sarah. " I 
should n't wonder if we were to see sheep pasturing on the roofs 
soon." 

" Some of these cabins are almost buried in the earth," said Mr. 
Bodley. " They make more picturesque objects than good houses 
to live in with a large family. The station-houses really are the 
most airy and attractive buildings, to my thinking." 



44 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



" Oh, you are a confirmed American, Nathan," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. " You want things to be spick and span." 

" If I am to live in them, I do. If I am merely to look at them, 
give me the tumble-down and picturesque." 

As the train drew nearer to Throndhjem, the country became 
more open, the houses were no longer timber-houses, but built with 
frames and supporting tiled roofs, and the roads had the look of 
suburban roads. The Gula was crossed twice, and fine views were 




Throndhjem Cathedral. 

had of the city, the fjord, and the distant mountains. Just a day 
after leaving Christiania the train entered Throndhjem, and our 
party at once drove across the town to the Jonas Lie, the steamer 
in which they were to make their home for three weeks or so, while 
they journeyed to the North Cape and back. They found that the 
boat was to leave at ten that night, so they bestowed their bags and 
boxes in the state-rooms which they had secured, and set out for a 
ramble through the town. 



DUE NORTH. 45 

They sought the cathedral, which was the most conspicuous object 
in town, and found it lively with workmen who were busy within 
and without. The hoary square tower which rises above the centre 
of the church gave the whole structure both dignity and the air of 
age ; but the new stone which was used in the restoration, and the 
parts of the old work which had been scraped, gave a very zealous 
look to the cathedral. They went where they could within the 
building, and looked down into the water of St. Olaf's well, for St. 
Olaf was the patron saint of the church. 

" You have heard of the three tailors of Tooley Street, Charles, 
have you not ? " asked his uncle. 

" No, Uncle Philip ; who were they ? " 

" I can't give you their whole history, but there were three tail- 
ors of Tooley Street in London, who once addressed a petition to 
the House of Commons, beginning, i We, the people of England,' 
and they were very much laughed at for their grand salute. So the 
story goes. But what puts them into my head ? " 

" I 'm sure I don't know." 

" St. Olaf's well, or rather St. Olaf himself. St. Olaf is Tooley. 
Attend. Olaf is pronounced Oolaf. Very well. Saintoolaf, s'ntoo- 
laf, stoola, Tooley. There you have it. So the story goes." 

" Must we believe that, father ? " asked Sarah. 

" Do as you please, Sarah. I shall not insist upon it, but it is 
credible." 

The children were really as much attracted' by the graveyard 
through which they passed as they were by the cathedral itself. It 
was not large, but full of graves lying by diminutive paths. There 
was scarcely a grave which had not flowers or wreaths upon it, and 
old stones were apparently scrubbed and kept in cheerful, repair. 



46 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Women with children were scattered about, and it was the most ani- 
mated, bright little graveyard our friends had ever happened to see. 
They found walking in the town a somewhat difficult task. The 
streets were paved in the centre with small flag-stones, flanked by 
gravel sidewalks, and between the sidewalks and houses were cobble- 
stone pavements and open gutters, so that it was quite impossible to 
walk with any comfort. One was always getting amongst the cob- 
ble-stones or into the dirt. So they made their way back before 
long to the Jonas Lie, glad to rest from the bright sun. 

The steamboat had come from Christiania, and had taken on pas- 
sengers there, but chiefly at Bergen. The passengers had been ram- 
bling about Throndhjem, while the boat lay at the pier, and were 
now returning singly or in groups. Our friends scanned them with 
interest, for they knew that they were to be near neighbors for 
three weeks. The boats which run to the North Cape and back are 
not mere pleasure-boats. It is only within a few years that travel- 
ers have resorted to them for the excursion. They are the means 
by which the fishing villages which dot the coast and islands of Nor- 
way reach the centres of business. The steamers carry salt and 
flour and various provisions to these settlements, and bring back 
their products, chiefly fish and lumber. It often takes a long while 
to load the steamer at one of these little stations, and the passengers 
use the opportunity for a ramble inland. The telegraph runs every- 
where, and the wires are freely used, so that when a steamer has 
touched at a port, the captain frequently gets a dispatch notifying 
him that there is a cargo waiting for him at some remote village 
which he had not intended to visit. In this way the voyage is full 
of interesting surprises. Besides, the steamer is used by peasants 
who may wish to pass from one village to another, and very often 



DUE NORTH. 4»f 

by emigrants to America, who take it on the way back to Bergen, 
from which port they are to embark in some vessel or ocean steamer. 
The captains and mates often speak English. This was the case on 
the Jonas Lie, at any rate. 

" Before we go any farther," said Sarah, as the steamer got under 
way, about ten o'clock, " I wish to know who Jonas Lie was or is, 
that he should have a steamer named for him." 

" He is a Norwegian poet and novelist, Sarah," said her father ; 
" and you must not say Jonas Lie, but Yonas Lee. Remember, you 
are a modified vikingess, and must speak the language of your coun- 
try accurately." 

" Well, if I ever get so that I can pronounce the names of places 
which we visit in Norway, I will let the rest of the language go, for 
I have been studying the guide-book, and some of the words are 
simply unpronounceable." 

" They are harmless words, many of them, as soon as you trans- 
late them into their English equivalents. A good many, you notice, 
end in vik or mg. That is as much as to say creek in such words 
as Lime Creek, or Goose Creek. Some end in naes, as Saltnaes, or 
Saltnose, and some in vand, which is water." 

"Just as Mont Blanc is nothing more than White Mountain, 
though it sounds finer." 

"Exactly so." 

The Jonas Lie lay in the stream until midnight, so that our 
friends went below before they were fairly off, and when they came 
on deck the next day, a cold mist shut the steamer in. It lifted 
now and then, and they could see that they were passing by gray 
rocky islands and headlands. Occasionally they could spy fisher- 
men's houses on the rocks, and here and there a little farm upon the 



48 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

most barren-looking soil, where a ledge of rocks formed the bar- 
rier, and on the other the people had built, painfully, a heavy 
stone wall, to keep out other rocks, one would say. 

" See ! " exclaimed Charles, " there is a viking boat," as a fish- 
erman's boat passed them, low in the waist, and rising at stem and 
stern with a high poop. 

" Beg your pardon," said the captain, who was near by, and over- 
heard. " That is a viking boat. They are all viking boats. They 
are not carved as the old boats were, and they have no dragons at 
the bow, and no holes cut for the oars, but they are the same shape. 
You will see them all along up the coast." 

" Shall we see Torghaetta to-day ? " asked Mr. Van Wyck. 

" If it is clear." 

" But do you often have these mists ?" 

" I have been to the North Caj>e and back when it was mist all 
the way, all the way," said the captain, with emphasis. Our friends 
looked at each other with dismay. Suppose they should go to the 
North Cape and come back, and see nothing more than what they 
saw now ! But that was too disagreeable to be thought of. 

" What are those targets on the rocks for ? " asked Charles, point- 
ing to some black and white rings which he saw. 

" They show where iron bolts are driven in for boats to moor to," 
said the captain. The mist lifted more and more, and after dinner, 
when they were on deck again, there was lovely sunshine. 

" Ah," said Mr. Van Wyck, who had been secretly studying the 
guide-book, " there is the Giantess ! " 

" Whereabouts ? " asked his wife, looking among the passengers, 
as if she expected to see some good-natured Norwegian woman tow- 
ering above the crowd. 



DUE NORTH. 49 

" Do you not see her off there ? " said Mr. Van Wyck, pointing 
to a rocky mountain in the distance. " You must know, children, 
that there was once a real giantess, full grown, and more beautiful 
than one can easily imagine. Her size added to her beauty. You 
sometimes see women with large, liquid, beautiful eyes, but the eyes 
in such cases are rarely larger than an almond. Now imagine a be- 
ing with the same kind of eye, only as big as a water-melon, and you 
can form some faint idea of the beauty of this giantess, who once 
stepped gracefully from one island to another on this rocky coast. 
You have seen a beautiful woman's beautiful taper fingers, but the 
most lovely hand of the most lovely woman you ever knew, — your 
mother, for example, — was not much more than six inches long. 
Now imagine our beautiful giantess with hands sixty inches long, 
and you can easily see that she was ten times as beautiful as either 
of your mothers. She was carelessly stepping along, playing with 
her parasol, the handle of which was made of a Norway fir, when 
she was aware that a very objectionable lover was chasing her. She 
did not need to look behind, for she knew it instinctively, so she 
lifted her skirt and began to run. Her brother, a giant who was at 
work getting out a glacier over yonder to put into his water-pitcher, 
dropped the glacier and began to chase the lover. The lover, who 
was on horseback, turned and shot an arrow at the giant, but he 
aimed too high. It went through the giant's hat, and made a dread- 
ful hole. The wind whistled through the hole in the hat so loudly 
that it disturbed the giant, and he dashed it to the ground. Just 
then the giantess, who was unused to running, began to grow very 
faint. The lover was gaining on her, when suddenly the sun, seeing 
the turn things were taking, sent a strong ray of light upon the hat 
and turned it into stone. At the same time a part of the ray went 

4 



50 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



through the hole and turned the giantess and the horseman both 
into stone. The giant brother was not hit. Some say that the 
brother was the sun himself. Others, that he lost sight of the horse- 
man and went on chasing to the North Pole, where he was so satis- 
fied with the abundance of ice that he never could make up his 
mind to leave it. At any rate, here is the Giantess, to prove her 




Torghaetta. 

part of the story, lying you see at full length, just as she fell, ex- 
hausted by the race." 

" I certainly see her," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " Now, Philip, when 
you show us the Hat with the hole in it, I shall believe that part of 
the story, also." 

" Very well ; wait till after supper, and if it is quiet we will not 
only see the Hat, but walk into the hole." 

They caught sight of the Hat before supper. There it was, to be 



DUE NORTH. 



51 



sure, — a great rocky mountain with a hole clean through it, and 
every one on board was on the qui vive to get a nearer view. It 
was a little after nine when the steamer lay to, and a boat-load 
of passengers, including all of our party, went ashore. The cap- 
tain acted as guide, and mar- 
shalled his forces of twenty- 
two, though when they were 
once on the island he found it 
difficult to make his company 
keep the right path, for all 
except a few docile ones were 
sure they could find a shorter 
cut than the captain took. 
They entered a little cove by 
a deserted house and barn, 
and clambering over a few 
rocks, crossed a pretty green 
meadow, yellow with butter- 
cups, which led to a higher 
ledge. Upon the other side 
of that was a marsh, over 
which they picked their way, L 
and so came to a ravine lead- 
ing up to the opening. It was not until they were upon the last 
steep incline that they discovered the opening in the mountain, and 
soon after stood at the entrance. 

" How high is the mountain, Captain ? " asked Mr. Bodley. 

" It is eight hundred feet ; you have climbed about half that dis- 
tance, and it is sixty feet from here to the top of the opening." 




The Hole in the Hat. 



52 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Through the great hole they could see the ocean, dotted with isl- 
ands. One of the company fired a pistol, and flocks of birds came 
flying out from under the roof. Mr. Bodley and Mr. Van Wyck 
and Charles ran down from the opening, for the middle of the hole 
was lower than at either end. Then they climbed to the opposite 
extremity, and looked far below them at a cluster of houses and 
some boats on the beach. The entrance there was much grander, 
being more than two hundred feet in height, and arched. The walls 
were precipitous, almost plumb in some places, and near the en- 
trance, about twenty feet up, King Oscar had traced his name in 
bold letters, Oscar, 18-V— 73, or somebody had done it for him. 

" A cat may look at a king," said Mr. Bodley, and proceeded to 
score his own name more modestly, Nathan, 18-f-82. 

" Why don't you add Bodley, father ? " asked Charles, who had 
written his own name in full. 

" Oscar did not, and it would not be respectful in me to have a 
longer name than the king. I hope I know my manners, if I am an 
American and a democrat." 

They hurried back now to join the rest of the party, who had al- 
ready begun to descend the hill. The descent was quickly made, 
and when they reached the little cove they found they had only 
been absent an hour and a half. The turf was sprinkled with lovely 
flowers, anemones, orchids, heath, and buttercups, together with an 
unknown flower which Mrs. Van Wyck said was in half -mourning, 
since it had white petals and was almost black about the calyx. 
It resembled a blackberry blossom. The leaves were a little like 
those of the bunchberry, growing opposite each other about a short 
stalk. 

The steamer had gone off on a cruise to some village while the 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 53 

party had been exploring the hole, and it was some time before it 
appeared again. 

" It is as good as being shipwrecked/' said Sarah. " We are on 
an island, and waiting very comfortably for our rescuers." 

" What an excellent end to the week," said her mother. " Scram- 
bling over these rocks after being penned up in the steamer gives 
one all the feeling of having done something very praiseworthy. I 
feel as if I could say, I have spent a virtuous day." 

"It is the air of the north, Phippy," said her husband. "Depend 
upon it, our virtue is all owing to that." 

After they had rowed back to the steamer, and the children had 
gone to bed, the older members of the party watched the sun for 
some time, scarcely able to decide whether it was setting or about 
to rise. It was only an hour and a half below the horizon at this 
point. As it was nearly twelve, however, they made up their minds 
to go to bed by sunset, rather than by sunrise, and so turned in to 
sleep and dream. 



CHAPTER IV. 

THE MIDNIGHT SUN- 



When the party returned to the steamer they found more pas- 
sengers aboard, but were chiefly interested in a Lapp, the first they 
had seen. He was a short man who wore a belted frock of some 
woolen stuff, while his legs were encased in leather leggings, and 
his feet were shod with reindeer-skin shoes. A sugar-loaf woolen 
head-piece covered his head, and his thin gray hair crept below it. 



54 THE VIKING- BODLEYS. 

He appeared to be a pedlar ; at least, he carried a pack on his 
back. 

Sunday morning was bright and clear. The Jonas Lie was steam- 
ing up the Vefsenfjord, which showed high, snow-covered rocks on 
either side. There was an English clergyman on board, and it was 
proposed to have service, but the captain advised waiting until they 
should have left the next station, as there would be a good deal of 
noise in loading and unloading. It was eleven o'clock when they 
reached the station. Here were green hills and smiling fields, while 
upon the opposite side of the fjord were rocky cliffs, with snow 
lying in the ravines. The captain said they might be detained an 
hour or two, and so our party set off for a walk. 

" Let us go to that church," said Mr. Van Wyck, pointing to one 
which they spied a mile or so away, " and perhaps we shall be in 
time to see the service." 

" Don't you want to hear it, Uncle Philip ? " asked Charles. 

" Yes, if they sing ; but I am afraid my outward ears would not 
serve as very valuable conductors to my inner man." 

The road led through a little village, where they saw a number of 
little girls and boys at play, playing prisoner's base. Outside of the 
village the way was somewhat circuitous and very hot. Various 
carriages passed them filled with people going either to or from 
church, 

"I should think I was going to church in New England," said 
Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" I was myself thinking of Cape Cod this very moment," said her 
brother, " and wondering if we should not meet Uncle Freeman in 
his carryall, with the flight of steps on the side." 

" I remember those steps. They folded up with a series of bangs. 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 55 

When you stepped on the lowest one, you were not sure but the 
carryall would tip over on that side. Dear me, it almost makes me 
homesick." 

The church to which they had come was a large, red-painted 
building, octagonal in shape, with four arms, and a sharp bell-tower 
in the centre. Near by was what appeared to be the parsonage, 
with barns and other buildings clustered about it. Horses were 
cropping the grass, unharnessed from the wagons and carioles which 
stood about on the turf. The shady stoops and benches were filled 
with men and boys whittling and talking idly, while women and 
girls stood in groups, or walked about. All had the air of knowing 
that they wore their Sunday clothes, though there was little that 
w T as distinctive in costume. The women, to be sure, wore handker- 
chiefs on their heads, some figured and some white, and the men 
thick woolen mufflers about their throats, hot as it was. 

" It must be between two services," said Mrs. Boclley, " for the 
people are all out in the church-yard." 

" I am not so sure," said her husband. " The church steps look 
as though there was a crowd inside." 

So it proved, for when they tried to enter the church they had to 
make their way through a throng of people, and once inside, they 
had to stand with many others. The pews were filled, while the 
centre aisle was lined with a row of boys on one side, and a row of 
girls on the other. An old clergyman in a black robe and white 
ruff, with ruffles also at his wrist, and wearing a skull-cap and gold 
spectacles, was slowly coming down the aisle. 

" He is catechizing the children," said Mrs. Bodley, in a whisper, 
to Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" We never can stay till he has gone down this long aisle and 



56 THE VIKING.. BODLEYS. 

back," returned her sister. She gave a hint to the gentlemen, and 
they edged their way out of church again. 

"At all events, it was a characteristic spectacle," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. " We saw an old Norwegian priest catechizing his flock, and 
I could make out that he was asking a series of questions on the 
doctrines, to which the boys answered yes or no." 

" Your Norwegian is coming on famously, Philip," said his wife. 

" Oh, you must remember he was talking to children," said Mr. 
Van Wyck, carelessly. " Of course it was easier to understand." 

" Just hear him, Phippy," said Mrs. Bodley. " His pride of lan- 
guage goeth before destruction, I am sure." 

" Did you notice the ship which hung from the centre of the ceil- 
ing;: ? " asked Charles of his cousin. 

" Yes, it was full-rigged, and reminded me of the ships we saw 
hung in a Holland church, — at Harlem, was n't it ? " 

" There was a ship there, I remember ; but this one was not a 
viking ship, certainly." 

The walk back to the Jonas Lie was hotter than the walk to the 
church, and our party was glad of the sheltered awning. Later a 
breeze sprang up, and it was a pretty sight to see a fleet of twenty 
or thirty fishing-boats, with their square brown sails, go tripping 
down the fjord. The mist again settled upon the steamer as it went 
on its way. There was service in the cabin at four, when the Eng- 
lish clergyman, a kindly-faced man, read the service and said a few 
simple words. After supper there was a momentary hope of clearer 
weather. In the far north there was a broad beam of golden light, 
such as one often sees at sunset under the mist. The whole length 
of the sunlit band was a row of islands, covered with sharp hills, 
whose tops were outlined along the sky ; their forms were clearly 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 



57 



defined, and they were the islands of the blest to our eager travelers. 
They steamed toward them, and in the same direction was sailing, 
though nearer to the light, a flock of little Norwegian fishermen. 
The boats were marked against the sky, and appeared as spires and 
towers in the distant golden city. 

" What do you think ? " said Mr. Van Wyck. " The captain tells 
me that we are now crossing the Arctic circle, and see ! over yon- 
der is Hestmandso, or Horseman's Island." 

" And who, pray, was 
the horseman ? " asked 
his wife. 

" What ! have you so 
soon forgotten ? He is 
the gigantic lover who 
shot the arrow which 
pierced the hat and 
made the hole through 
which the sun turned 
to stone the flying gi- 
ant maiden." 

" Dear me ! I am looking very hard, but I find it strains my 
eyes to make out a horseman." 

" You must mix your sight with faith, Phippy. That is the horse- 
man, and it will not do to go by and not recognize him." 

" I think the Arctic circle makes my head go round," said Mrs. 
Van Wyck, plaintively, " and I must give it up." 

The rest all looked hard, but while they were disputing as to 
which was the head and which the tail of the horse, and whether the 
horseman had on a cloak or no, the mist again shut in about them. 




Hestmandso. Horseman's Island. 



58 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" We are now within the region of perpetual snow," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. 

" And perpetual mist/' added his wife. " Here we have come to 
see the sun shamelessly shining at midnight, and we have hardly 
seen it shine at noon." 

u There is an Englishman on board, a doctor, who has a pocket 
barometer, which shows what the weather is going to be," said 
Charles. 

" I know that Englishman," said his father. " I don't believe in 
pocket weather. I have seen him consult the little thing. He 
might just as well look at his watch." 

"I know him, too," said Mr. Van Wyck. "We were walking the 
deck yesterday. We had been speaking of emigration to America, 
when he asked, * Is n't the land rather worn out in Philadelphia ? 
You would n't advise a farmer to go there ? ' If he had not been a 
modest as well as a stupid man, I should have answered him that in 
some parts of Philadelphia I believed the land was worth fifty dol- 
lars a square foot, but I spared his feelings and tried gently to lead 
him out of his ignorance. ' I was thinking, I suppose,' said he, i of 
the time of the civil war, when the armies went back and forth over 
Philadelphia.' " 

" The captain says," — began Charles. 

" Oh yes," interrupted Sarah, " I know what the captain says. 
He says we are going to have this weather right along, and he is 
very doubtful if we shall be able to ascend the North Cape." 

" How did you know the captain said that ? " 

" I guessed it. I 'm cross." 

" Well, he did say it." 

Indeed, it was little wonder that Sarah was cross, and that all the 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 



59 



party was somewhat discouraged. Mist, mist, mist, with occasional 
glimpses of the wonderfully wild scenery through which they were 
passing. Then the boat was constantly stopping to load or unload, 
and the steady rattle of the hoisting apparatus was like a tune 
played on one string. All this made delay, too, and it was Wednes- 
day noon before they had reached Tromso. 

" Tromso is called the Paris of the north," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
waving his hand toward the town. 




Tromso. 



" Uncle Philip, you got that from the guide-book," said Charles. 
"I read it there myself." 

" Well, Charles, I hope you will not be so fascinated by the gay- 
ety of the place that you will not wish to leave it. Let me make a 
proposition. It will surely be impossible for us to see this great 
Paris of the north in the few hours we have unless we divide our 
forces. Nathan, you might take Sarah and Charles ; Blandina and 
Phippy can make a second party, and I will make a third. Then, 
when we return we can report what we have seen." 



60 THE VIKING .BODLEYS. 

This was agreed to. They reached Tromso in the middle of the 
forenoon, and were told that they need not return until four o'clock 
in the afternoon' Promptly at four they all met on the steamer. 

" Place aux dames," said Mr. Van Wyck. " Do you know what 
that means, Charles ? " 

" Make way for the girls," said the boy promptly. 

" Just so. Come, Phippy and Blandina, tell us where you have 
been." 

" Shopping, of course," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " Is not that what 
people go to Paris for ? We have been in the silversmiths' shops, 
and we have found some lovely things. Look at this little cup ; " 
and she produced a silver cup, a little larger than a thimble. It was 
much dented, and had an inscription upon it. " Now, Philip," she 
said, " produce that precious Norwegian language which you use so 
cautiously, and tell us what it means when it says, as nearly as I 
can spell it, — 

" ' Drikk mig ud, 
Lag mig ned ; 
Staar jeg op, 
Saa skjenk mir.' " 

" Oh, I can make that out, — 

" ' Drink me dry, 
Lay me by ; 
Set me up, 
Drain the cup. 5 " 

" Well done ! Now see what I have," said his sister, and she pro- 
duced a silver porringer, about two inches in diameter, and a silver 
spoon with a flat bowl. " They are Lapp things. The man spoke 
beautiful broken English, and he told me so." 

" Did you ever measure a Lapp child's mouth ? " asked Mr. Van 



THE MIDMGHT SUN. 



61 



Wyck, looking critically at the spoon. " It must be of extraordi- 
nary width to take this in." 

" Oh, but we saw some real Lapps ! " said Charles, eagerly. " We 
saw a group of them, and we bought some shoes made of reindeer- 
skin, which they made." 

" And very pretty shoes they are," added Sarah ; " but I think I 
shall air mine pretty well 



before I wear them. Now, 
Charles, show what else you 
bought." 

"It is a top, a whipping- 
top, with a leather whip," 
said the boy. " We saw two 
little fellows whipping a top. 
I had read about whipping- 
tops in story books, but I 
never saw one in America, 
so I gave the boys ten ore for 
the whole establishment." 

" Two cents and a half," 
exclaimed Sarah ; " and I am 
morally certain that Charles 
cannot make that top go. I 
heard a banging noise in his 
state-room after we came back, and I think he was knocking that 
top about. Own up, Charles ! " 

" Get your top," said his uncle, " and show how finely you can 
spin it." 

" It 's in my pocket now," said Charles, reluctantly. 




Lapps. 



62 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Whip it out." 

Charles produced it, and after much urging, put it on the deck 
and began lashing it. He knocked it here and there and plunged 
wildly after it, nearly throwing the top overboard, and going after 
it himself. It stood on its head. It fell on its side. It was every- 
where except on its stubby peg. Charles grew red, but continued 
to dance about, determined to make it spin. Such a pother was 
made that the captain, who was passing by, stopped to see what was 
the matter. 

" Beg your pardon," said he. He began most of his sentences in 
English with these words. " Beg your pardon. Let me try ; " and 
taking the top, he gave it a little twist, applied the lash deftly, and 
the top went whirling about like a dancer, rambling over the deck, 
and apparently very much at its ease. 

" Beg your pardon," said the captain, as he handed the whip to 
Charles. " I spun tops in Tromso when I was a boy. I was born 
here." 

" Well," said Charles, who kept the top on its leg by continuing 
to whip it, "that's some compensation for being born in Tromso." 

" There was a little boy of Tromso," said his father, suddenly, — 

" ' There was a little boy of Tromso, 
'T was there he had his home, sir, 

He whipped his little top 

Till he was seen to drop, 
This dizzy little boy of Tromso.' 

Now, Philip, you have not told us what you did." 
" Oh, I took a bath." 

" Took a bath ! Why, you could have had one on the boat." 
" Exactly, but I preferred going to the Grand Hotel. I believe I 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 63 

asked for a railroad first. I know the man looked surprised. I 
wanted a bane, I said. I looked in my dictionary afterward, and 
found that meant a railroad. I should have asked for a bad. How- 
ever, I added varmt vand, — that means warm water, Charles, — 
and my meaning was clear. The man brought up a big wooden 
wash-tub, such as we use at home for clothes. I think my time 
was well spent." 

" And that is all you saw of Tromso ! " said Charles, somewhat 
scornfully. 

After dinner that evening the passengers were in high spirits, for 
the mist was breaking away, and the captain promised them a fine 
night. They should certainly see the sun at midnight. So our 
young people took the precaution to take a nap in the evening. 
They were to be waked in good season before midnight. The rest 
of the party sat on deck and rejoiced in the wonderful beauty of 
the scene, as they crossed a broad confluence of fjords and came to 
Kaago Sund. In every direction were ranges of lofty, snow-cov- 
ered, rocky heights. Glaciers could be descried by their form, but 
only occasionally could the glitter of ice be seen beneath the weight 
of snow. The summits of these mountains were from two to five 
thousand feet above them, and rising as they did from the open sea, 
the effect was much more impressive than if seen from land. As 
they came toward Kaago Sund, a wild chaos of island and mountain 
forms was before them. It seemed almost impossible to penetrate 
that dark mass ; and as the boat went on and on, it looked as if it 
were diving into destruction. Silent did the four people sit in the 
midst of the glory and the gloom. 

" Ah ! " sighed Mrs. Van Wyck, at last, " to think that we shall 
forget this sight ! " 



64 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Forget it, Phippy ? Impossible ! " 

" Yes, Blandina, we shall forget everything except the general 
impression. I know how it will be. There will be nothing but 
shreds and fragments of it left in our memories in three years." 

" Do not believe her," said Mrs. Bodley, earnestly. " Some day 
a picture, or only a thought, will throw open a door in her memory, 
and she will see this all in a flash." 

" I understand Tennyson's words better after this," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. " They have been sounding in my ears : — 

" ' Break, break, break, 

On thy cold, gray stones, O sea.' 

And I can understand how Dr. Kane kept saying them over to him- 
self in the Arctic. How this desolation does make one wish for 
something one has lost or left behind ! " 

" I really think we are getting sentimental, Philip," said his wife, 
energetically. "And besides, it is time to call the children." 

So the children were called, and they all watched with interest to 
see if the great event would come off. A heavy bank of clouds lay 
on the horizon at the north, and there was a good deal of doubt ex- 
pressed if the sun would not ungenerously get behind the cloud at 
twelve o'clock. Suddenly the captain gave orders to put the boat 
about, and it began steaming over the way it had just traversed. 
The reason was soon apparent. He said that if the steamer kept 
on its course it would get behind a rocky cliff where the sun could 
not be seen. The captain timed the manoeuvre admirably, for just 
at twelve o'clock, as all the company was assembled on the captain's 
bridge, there, full before them, was the sun on the edge of the bank 
of cloud. In the opposite quarter of the heaven was the moon, just 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 65 

past the full, shining with a pale refulgence, which added no light 
to the landscape, but a charming picture to the sky. Even the 
clouds about it appeared to get nothing by being near. One of the 
passengers unscrewed a lens from his field-glass, and tried to burn a 
hole in his hat. 

" A whale ! " suddenly cried Charles, and there, right across the 
bows, it passed and spouted. 

" I could almost stroke his back," said Sarah. A little flock of 
sea-gulls flew overhead. The sun cast long shadows from the rocks 
upon the fjord, and bright light upon the snow-clad heights. There 
was little or no mist, and it was not cold. 

" I wish I could say what this light is like," said Mr. Van Wyck. 

" Is n't it a very early summer morning ? " suggested his wife. 

" It is as if the sun was shining at dawn," said Mrs. Bodley, and 
that was as near as they could come to expressing it. There was a 
subdued light over the whole landscape, yet a bright orb in one 
spot. The light was diffused, yet the source of light was burning 
clear and strong. 

" It is all in us," said Mr. Bodley, positively. " We know what 
time it is, and so we make the light strange. If we had waked sud° 
denly, and only knew that the sun was rising, we should see noth- 
ing but a clear sunrise. The trouble is, sunrise itself is a new thing 
to us." But all the rest shook their heads. It was the Midnight 
Sun, and they were not going to have it turned into an ordinary 
affair. They bade each other good-morning, and went to bed. 

When they came on deck at a later hour they were at Ham- 
merfest, the northernmost town in the world, and not waiting for 
breakfast, they hurried ashore to spend the hour which they were 
told they should have there. It was a quaint place, crouching under 

5 



66 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



a precipitous hill close by the water's edge, with an excellent har- 
bor, which was filled with shipping. There were Russian vessels 
which had come round the corner, as Mrs. Van Wyck said, and Rus- 
sian sailors were rambling through the streets. 

" The people must be honest here," said Sarah. " Do you see 
that door-key hanging on a nail outside ? The people have gone 
off and left the key where they can get at it without trouble." 




Hammerfest. 



" There is no place for a thief to run to," said Charles. " He 
would have to take a boat if he wanted to get away at all. No- 
body would think of climbing those steep, icy hills." 

" Do you know what the latitude is ? " asked Mrs. Bodley of her 
husband. 

" My dear," said he, " I just looked it up, and I have forgotten 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN 67 

already. I '11 look again," and then he announced that it was 70° 
15' north latitude. 

" Where would that bring us in America ? " she asked. 

" I think at the northernmost point of Alaska. So you see that if 
we want to go as far north as Hammerfest, we can still be in United 
States territory." 

" Yet how warm it is here ! " 

"Warm, Sarah! hot you mean. I am all in a perspiration. 
Now do you know what I am going to do ? I am going to the post- 
office, and there I shall buy a Norwegian post-card and send a note 
to Aunt Lucy." 

" Bravo ! " said his father. " Let us all do it." So each bought a 
card and headed it, " The northernmost town in Europe," and in 
process of time Aunt Lucy Bodley received six post-cards, post- 
marked Hammerfest. Our friends were so pleased when they had 
done this, that they bought six more and sent them off to Cousin 
Ned Adams ; and if it had not been that the hour was nearly over, 
they might have gone on until they had stripped the post-office of 
its supply of post-cards. They need not have hurried after all ; for 
when they returned to the steamer they found that the captain had 
good-naturedly put off going to the North Cape until the afternoon, 
so that his passengers might climb the cape at midnight. Our 
friends used this additional time mainly in taking a long nap. In- 
deed, they were getting so confused by this perpetual daylight that 
they were losing ordinary account of time and seasons, and some- 
times were puzzled to know whether they were eating breakfast or 
supper. 

Contrary to expectation, and the company's table of stations, the 
Jonas Lie stopped at two or three places before reaching the 



68 THE VIKING. BODLEYS. 

North Cape, but only for a short time at each ; and, except at these 
places, there were no houses or traces of human life to be seen. 
The intention was to reach the North Cape just in time to make the 
ascent and see the sun from it at midnight. The sky was cloudy, 
and the sun did not show itself. However, the passengers did not 
give up hope, and the captain, to pass away the time, proposed an 
excursion up a little fjord, where there was a whaling station, and 
men were engaged in trying out the blubber. 

" Does n't it smell ? " asked Mrs. Boclley, anxiously. 

" Beg your pardon, ma'am," said the captain. " Very badly." 
So much, indeed, was said of the awful smell, that every one was 
curious to go and see what effect it had on his neighbor. It turned 
out, when they reached the place, that the men were not at work, 
and all that was to be seen were the remains of two whales. The 
Jonas Lie lay to, and a boat-load at a time rowed to the shore. 
Our friends did not go in the first load, but watched curiously to 
see what effect was produced upon those who did go. They looked 
through their opera-glasses and saw each person in the boat holding 
his or her nose with a handkerchief. 

" It must be perfectly dreadful," said Sarah. " Why don't they 
come back and let us go ? " They came back and gave such a re- 
port that the rest of the passengers scrambled into the boat with 
great alacrity, curious to see if it were really as bad as was repre- 
sented. They rowed into a cove between the two monsters, and 
held a conversation with a man who had come down from the hut, 
where the work was done. The mate, who was in charge of the 
boat, did the talking and interpreted to the passengers. The whales 
were about sixty-five feet long. Everything had been got out of 
them, and they were abandoned ; but some peasants would come 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 



69 



along presently and get what refuse they could scrape for a species 
of cod-liver oil. Then the whales would be towed out to sea and 
left to fall to pieces and become drift-bone, go to the bottom or be 
washed up on the coast. All this was told in a leisurely fashion, 
while our friends could hardly breathe. 

" Why in the world don't they hurry ? " said Charles, under his 
handkerchief. " I do believe the mate has got everything out of 




The North Cape. 



the man and is talking about the weather." The other passengers 
were equally impatient and began gesticulating to the mate, who 
laughed and ordered the men to row back to the steamer. 

The fjord in which the whales lay was a short recess just west of 
the North Cape promontory. A few people live there who lie in 
wait for prey, so to speak, dart out with their boats, harpoon a 
whale and tow him in, sometimes alive, to their cooking-shed. 

The Jonas Lie now steamed out of the fjord, and soon it was 
evident that the steamer was upon the open ocean. Great swells 



70 THE VIKING. BODLEYS. 

sent the boat rising and falling, an experience which they had not 
known since they left Throndhjem, for they had been under shel- 
ter of the land, but now were receiving the force of the Arctic 
Ocean. The passengers were below at supper while this was going 
on, and when they came on deck again, there abreast of them was a 
promontory, and on their quarter towered the great rock of the 
North Cape. 

"So this is the very tip-toppest point of Europe," said Sarah, gaz- 
ing at the monster, which was shrouded above in mist. 

" No, my dear," said her father. " It is not. It is so big and 
bold that people have agreed to overlook the fact that that knife- 
blade tongue of land which you see runs just a trifle farther north, 
about a half a mile, I believe." 

Between the two projections was a little bay, into which the 
steamer now ran and lay quiet. It was too early yet to make the 
ascent, and so every one fell to fishing, to pass away the time. The 
truth was, it looked very, very doubtful if it was going to be clear 
enough to permit any one to land and climb the rock, and so they 
all said nothing about it, but fished away as persistently as if that 
was why they had come to this lonely, out-of-the-way place. The 
mist fell lower and lower, until at last climbing the cape was wholly 
out of the question. There was no earthly prospect of the sun ap- 
pearing at twelve o'clock, — it was now ten, — so word was given, 
the lines were drawn in, the steamer put about, and soon the great 
cape in its cloak of mist disappeared from view. 

" Well, I am disappointed," said Mr. Bodley. " I had set my 
heart on sitting at the edge of the North Cape, letting my legs 
hang over, and looking at the Midnight Sun above the Arctic Ocean. 
I think I mind it a little less now that I find the North Cape is not 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN. 71 

the most northern point in Europe. What did you say was the 
name of the little fellow that runs out half a mile farther, Philip ? " 

" Knivskjoer-odde — Knife-Blade Cape," said Mr. Van Wyck. 

" Very well, since I can't whittle something on the end of the 
knife-blade odde, I don't mind it so much." 

" What a fine thing he must have thought he found who first dis- 
covered the North Cape," said Mr. Van Wyck. 

" Do you suppose he knew it until he had sailed a good deal far- 
ther and found himself going south again ? " asked his sister. 

" Now, Philip," said his wife, mischievously, " own up and say 
frankly that you only made your remark in order to get a chance to 
recite Longfellow's poem on i The Discoverer of the North Cape ? ' 

" Phippy, it is useless to hide my most secret thoughts from you. 
As a penalty you are to listen, if everybody else runs away, while I 
recite the poem." 

" Oh, we are all wide awake. Think of the long nap we took at 
Hammerfest. Was that to-day ? It seems ages ago." 

" Very well ; I don't need urging. So listen to a leaf from King 
Alfred's Orosius, done into verse by Mr. Longfellow." 

THE DISCOVERER OF THE NORTH CAPE. 

Othere, the old sea-captain, 

Who dwelt in Helgoland, 
To King Alfred, the Lover of Truth, 
Brought a snow-white walrus-tooth, 

Which he held in his brown right hand. 

His figure was tall and stately, 

Like a boy's his eye appeared ; 
His hair was yellow as hay, 
But threads of a silvery gray 

Gleamed in his tawny beard. 



72 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Hearty and hale was Othere ; 

His cheek had the color of oak ; 
With a kind of laugh in his speech, 
Like the sea-tide on a beach, 

As unto the King he spoke. 

And Alfred, King of the Saxons, 

Had a book upon his knees, 
And wrote down the wondi'ous tale 
Of him who was first to sail 
Into the Arctic seas. 

" So far I live to the northward, 
No man lives north of me ; 
To the east are wild mountain-chains, 
And beyond them meres and plains ; 
To the westward all is sea. 

" So far I live to the northward, 

From the harbor of Skeringes-hale, 
If you only sailed by day, 
With a fair wind all the way, 
More than a month would you sail. 

" I own six hundred reindeer, 
With sheep and swine beside ; 
I have tribute from the Finns, 
Whalebone and reindeer-skins, 
And ropes of walrus-hide. 

"I ploughed the land with horses, 
But my heart was ill at ease ; 
For the old seafaring men 
Came to me now and then, 
With sagas of the seas ; — 

" Of Iceland and of Greenland, 
And the stormy Hebrides, 



THE MIDNIGHT SUN 73 

And the undiscovered deep; — 
Oh I could not eat nor sleep 
For thinking of those seas. 

"To the northward stretched the desert, 
How far I fain would know; 
So at last I sallied forth, 
And three days sailed due north, 
As far as the whale-ships go. 

" To the west of me was the ocean, 

To the right the desolate shore, 
But I did not slacken sail 
For the walrus or the whale, 

Till after three days more. 

"The days grew longer and longer, 
Till they became as one, 
And northward through the haze 
I saw the sullen blaze 
Of the red Midnight Sun. 

"And then uprose before me, 
Upon the water's edge, 
The huge and haggard shape 
Of that unknown North Cape 
Whose form is like a wedge. 

"The sea was rough and stormy, 
The tempest howled and wailed, 
And the sea-fog, like a ghost, 
Haunted that dreary coast, 
But onward still I sailed. 

"Four days I steered to eastward, 
Four days without a night : 
Round in a fiery ring 
Went the great sun, O King, 
With red and lurid light." 



74 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Here Alfred, King of the Saxons. 

Ceased writing for a while; 
And raised his eyes from his book, 
With a strange and puzzled look, 

And an incredulous smile. 

But Othere, the old sea-captain, 
He neither paused nor stirred, 
Till the King listened and then 
Once more took up his pen, 
And wrote down every word. 

"And now the land," said Othere, 
"Bent southward suddenly, 
And I followed the curving shore 
And ever southward bore 
Into a nameless sea. 

" And there we hunted the walrus, 
The narwhale, and the seal ; 

Ha ! 'twas a noble game ! 

And like the lightning's flame 
Flew our harpoons of steel. 

" There were six of us all together, 
Norsemen of Helgoland ; 
In two days and no more 
We killed of them threescore, 

And dragged them to the strand ! " 

Here Alfred, the Truth-Teller, 

Suddenly closed his book, 
And lifted his blue eyes, 
With doubt and strange surmise 
Depicted in their look. 

And Othere, the old sea-captain, 
Stared at him wild and weird, 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 75 

Then smiled, till his shining teeth 
Gleamed white from underneath 
His tawny, quivering beard. 

And to the King of the Saxons, 

In witness of the truth, 
Raising his noble head, 
He stretched his brown hand, and said, 

" Behold this walrus-tooth ! " 

" Well," said Sarah, " it is a pity that we did not carry off some 
whale-bones to prove that we had been to the North Cape. A wal- 
rus-tooth ! I saw ever so many of them in shops at Tromso." 

" That was a good touch," said Mr. Bodley, " where the poet 
hinted at the likeness of Othere to a walrus. 

" ' Then smiled, till his shining teeth 
Gleamed white from underneath 
His tawny, quivering beard.'" 

" I have no doubt," said Mrs. Bodley, " that the cove in which we 
saw the two whales is the very one where Othere and his men did 
such execution on sixty walrus, narwhales, and seals. I don't won- 
der they stayed only two days with so many carcasses about. But 
come, it is long past midnight," and with that they all went below. 



CHAPTER V. 

SOUTHWARD BOUND. 



" What a pleasure it is to turn southward," said Mr. Bodley, when 
they met in the morning. They had already left Hammerfest be- 
hind them, the whole party having slept over their stay there. 



76 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Yes/' said Mr. Van Wyck. " Much as I like traveling, I always 
enjoy the sensation which comes when we have been as far in one 
direction as we mean to go and turn round. I feel now as if we had 
started for home." 

" It will be fun recognizing the places which we stopped at on 
our way north," said Charles. " They will seem like old friends." 
The Midnight Sun was one of these old friends, for they had the 
good luck to see it again that night, and Tromso seemed very fa- 
miliar, when they reached it early Saturday morning. The cap- 
tain had proposed a favorite excursion for his passengers. There 
was an encampment of Lapps a few miles from Tromso, and it would 
be an easy thing for a party from the steamer to visit it, and see 
the strange people among their reindeer, of which they kept a large 
herd. So he had telegraphed for horses to be in readiness for the 
ladies, while the gentlemen were to walk. But when Mr. Van 
Wyck came on deck early, he found the captain wearing a disap- 
pointed air. 

" Beg your pardon," said the captain, " but this is a disappointing 
trip. No Lapps, no reindeer, no Midnight Sun." 

" What do you mean ? Have the Lapps run away ? " 

" No, but the snow has been so heavy that it has covered the ice 
on the fjords, and the reindeer can't cross." 

" Why, I should think they could cross all the easier, if the snow 
and ice are there." 

" Beg pardon. The ice would not be safe. It would break 
through at this season. They wait till it is clear, and then the rein- 
deer swim the fjord. These outer fjords are open, but the reindeer 
are in the interior." 

" And we shall see no Lapps ? " 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 



77 



"There are Lapps in Tromso." 

" Oh yes, I know, those men, women, and children who have tents 
in the square and make shoes and baskets. They are just like the 
Indians at our watering-places in America. I care nothing for them. 
What I want to see is a regular Lapp hut." The captain nodded. 




A Lapp Hut. 

"Yes, you should see that. It is just a turf cabin. But you 
should see the reindeer." 

It rained hard all day, and there was little to tempt one ashore ; 
so our friends stayed under cover, and entertained themselves when 
the steamer was about to leave by watching a swarm of young Nor- 



78 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

wegians who gathered to bid good-by to three of their companions 
who were going south. The captain also had some friends to see 
him off, and there was a lively scene. The steamer was not at the 
pier, but in the stream, and ever so many little boats danced about 
it, bringing visitors or carrying them away. The three Norwegians 
on board waved their handkerchiefs and took off their hats to the 
people in the boats. Then the boats landed, and more good-byes 
were said on the wharf. Each separate person seemed to give and 
receive a separate benediction, as the steamer steamed away. 

The Jonas Lie had not left Tromso far behind before there was a 
sudden cry of " Reindeer ! " Out from the cabin rushed everybody, 
and there before them was a most interesting and novel sight. 
A herd of reindeer, more than a hundred in number, had been 
driven down to a point of land, where was the narrowest part of 
Tromso Sound, and were to be made to swim across. The distance 
was about a quarter of a mile. The steamer had just passed this 
point when they were discovered, and the captain at once stopped 
the boat, to let his passengers see the sight. There were a number 
of Lapps and two boats at the point, together with several dogs. 
One party of the Lapps got into a boat, and tying a rope to one of 
the reindeer, perhaps the leader of the herd, set out to row across 
the sound, towing the deer after them. The other reindeer imme- 
diately plunged into the water and swam after their leader. They 
followed in Indian file, and from the steamer the people could see a 
line of branching antlers. When the last was in the water, the rest 
of the Lapps and the dogs got into the second boat and followed in 
the rear, to see that all got over. A dozen or more were feebler or 
poorer swimmers, and straggled behind, one even turning back faint- 
hearted toward the shore from which it had set out. Others in the 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 79 

van were stronger, and passed the foremost boat, and so came first 
to land. As fast as the deer got ashore, they scrambled up the hill 
and cut up antics or fell to grazing. 

" Do they ever lose any ? " asked Mr. Van Wyck of the captain, 
as the steamer puffed away again. 

" Beg your pardon. Almost always they lose some in crossing." 

" I thought you said there were no reindeer near Tromso." 

" It was a mistake," said the captain. " Beg your pardon," and 
he walked off, apparently mortified that he should have been misin- 
formed. 

Rain, rain, mist, mist. That was the weather with which our 
friends became familiar as they crept down the coast, and stopped 
at one fishing station or another. Such quantities of herring as 
they took aboard ! The captain announced at one place that they 
would only be detained four hours. 

" Only four hours ! " exclaimed Sarah. " Will the steam windlass 
be used?" ■ 

Yes, the steam windlass certainly would be used. A great boat 
lies alongside of the steamer, filled with barrels of herring. The 
chain from the hoist is lowered into the boat. Silence for a moment, 
while the grapples are fastened to two barrels of herring. Another 
rattle as the load is hauled up. Silence while it is swung over the 
ship's side. Another fearful rattle as the barrels descend into the 
depths of the hold. Silence for a moment as the hooks are disen- 
gaged. Another rattle as the clanging chain comes up, and this is 
repeated until five hundred barrels have been stowed away. 

One day the captain pointed out a group of houses which they 
were passing. 

" Do you see them ? " he asked. " Once there lived a man who 



80 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

owned all this coast as far north as you can see, and far down to the 
south, but in ten years he lost it all through drink and not minding 
his affairs. And then one of his neighbors spoke against him, and 
said that he caught poor people and chopped them up and sold them 
to the Turks. Yes, there was a little building where he kept pota- 
toes, and they said that was the place. They had seen vessels sail- 
ing away from it in the morning." 

" That does not speak very well for the intelligence of your peo- 
ple up here," said Mr. Van Wyck. 

" Beg your pardon. It was some time since. But they had the 
same stories in Christiania not so very long ago." 

Mr. Van Wyck laughed as the captain moved away. 

" He seems anxious to relieve Sandfjord by throwing the burden 
upon a larger and more significant place," he said. " But do look 
at that poor woman ! " A boat was taking freight and passengers 
from the steamer. One woman's tine — as the gaudily painted boxes 
which the peasants carry are called — was passed out, and the han- 
dle came off, causing it to fall into the boat. Out came a milky- 
looking fluid, dribbling over the side of the tine. The poor woman 
opened her box in haste, but turned round with a beaming face, and 
showed her friends that two small phials, probably of medicine, had 
not broken; and then that a precious looking-glass, about three 
inches square, was safe. A bottle of coffee or milk had broken and 
emptied its contents over a plate of butter, some bread, and a lot of 
clothes of various sorts. 

" What a queer medley ! " said Sarah. 

" And have you noticed," said Charles, " what odd mittens the 
men wear ? They have two thumbs on each hand. What do you 
suppose it is for? " 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 81 

" The odd thumb looks like a fin," said Sarah. 

" I fancy it must be for convenience in putting on and off in a 
hurry," said Mrs. Bodley. " You know it 's very awkward getting 
your mitten on the wrong hand. Now whichever hand you put the 
mitten on, and whichever way it faces, in goes the thumb." 

" Do knit me a pair, mother," said Charles. " I think you must 
have been a boy to have made that discovery of the awkwardness of 
putting your mitten on the wrong hand." 

"What do you think?" said Mr. Bodley, who came up to the 
party at this moment. " We are to go up the Raft Sund." 

" On a raft soon, Nathan ? Surely the steamer is not going to 
pieces," said his wife. 

" My dear, you must learn some of my Norwegian. I said Raft 
Sund. I think that means Rafter Sound. At any rate, it is a pic- 
turesque sound which the steamer does not often visit ; but the cap- 
tain is good-natured. We have had a good many disappointments, 
he says, so we are to go up the sound." 

" Could anything be finer than this ? " asked Mrs. Van Wyck, 
pointing to the Lofoden Islands. " Why did we not see this when 
we came up ? Was it in the night ? " 

" Night or mist, one or the other, Phippy ; but it is fine indeed." 

They were crossing the noble Vestfjord. All about were jagged 
rocks and high peaks, like the aiguilles of the Alps, serrated ridges, 
and here and there great masses of mountains piled high above the 
clouds. The surface of the water was dotted with countless islands 
and rocky islets, through which the steamer wound its way Lovely 
lights and shadows were to be seen. The sun would send its pencil- 
ing of light upon some crag or green slope ; and once there was the 
base of a rainbow, spreading a wonderful prismatic light over the 
foot of the strangest mountain forms on the horizon. 



82 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

When the Jonas Lie entered the Raft Sund, a new pleasure 
awaited the eager passengers. The voyage was not unlike, in cer- 
tain general effects, the passage of the Rhine. That is, the sound 
wound about as the river does, and crags and slopes hemmed it in 
on either side ; but there was little that was smiling about this 
water, and there were no castles on the rocks nor vineyards on the 
slopes. A storm was before them and seemed always about to 
burst. The steamer drove by such tortuous ways, that, as one 
looked back, it was as if the gates of the hills had silently closed be- 
hind. Then one must needs admire the sweetness that now and 
again appeared in the midst of this wild, rude pass ; a broken hill, 
which had once been a mass of unsightly rock and gravel, had been 
reclaimed by nature with a soft green moss or verdure of some 
kind like a covering that fitted tenderly into every angle and hol- 
low of the mass ; then the light from the sun would fall upon a bit, 
and here would be a pale green distant hill-side. At every turn 
were clusters of houses, and boys in fishing-boats waving their hats 
to the people on the steamer. Into the gloomy depths of the sound 
did the steamer plunge ; but at last, as if tired of finding a way 
out in that direction, turned and retraced the way back into the 
more open fjord. 

Once more Bodo was visited, that bright little town with its fine 
background of snowy mountain peaks, its snug little harbor, and 
especially with the glimpse which it allowed across the water, be- 
tween two rocks which mark the entrance to the harbor, of a strik- 
ing range of snowy summits, just filling the rocky frame as a com- 
plete picture. 

" We have passed the point," said Mr. Van Wyck that evening, 
" where we can see the sun at midnight." 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 83 

" Well," said his wife, " the next best thing is to see it set, go be- 
hind the door a little while and come out again. Let us sit up for 
that performance." So, after the children had been sent below, the 
older ones of the party stayed above for this little show. The sun 
set about half after eleven, and a short after-glow followed. That 
did not last long ; there succeeded the still night which was light 
with the cool, colorless clearness so impossible to express in words, 
when everything was sharply defined but untouched by any warmth. 
The late moon now shone brightly. She had recovered her spirits 
and was hailed as an old friend. 

" Dear me," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " is n't it pleasant, Philip, to 
come to the end of a day ? Why, we shall yet see stars. 1 have n't 
seen a star for ages." 

" Yes, Phippy, I have no doubt you have seen the sun enough in 
the last fortnight to justify you in lying half an hour later in the 
morning for the next year. What a queer life we should lead of it 
at home if we were in such interminable daylight ! It 's all very 
well when you are traveling and amusing yourself, but think of 
leading my jog-trot of a business life under such conditions ! " 

So they went sailing on over the most quiet sea they had ever 
traversed, the reflections in it perfect, and the only ripples those 
made by the boat or by the eider ducks that sqmetimes fluttered 
across the water with a peculiar motion, half swimming, half flying, 
after their amphibious style. For the most part, however, ducks 
and gulls were asleep either on the rocks or on the surface of the 
water. It was not long before a slight color was seen in the sky, 
thrown up by the yet unrisen sun ; then the mackerel clouds above 
took on a ruby hue, and the water below was like wine. The color 
spread, and our friends looked eagerly for the rosy tints of dawn to 



84 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



strike upon the high peaks in the west. If the boat had stayed 
where it was, they said, they should have seen the sun rise. But 
alas ! the Jonas Lie began to crawl down a narrow fjord with high 
cliffs on either side, and as the fjord seemed interminable, the party 




A Norwegian Wedding. 

went below, a little before two, knowing that the sun was up, 
though they could not see it. 

It chanced the next day that the boat was to make a three or 
four hours' stop near Mosjoen in the Vefsenfjord, to take in freight. 
It was near the place where, on the way up, they had spent part of 
a Sunday, and had seen the interior of a Norwegian church. Now 



DUE NORTH. 



85 



they landed and made their way through the village of Mosjoen. 
There seemed to be some stir in the village ; but what was their 
delight, as they turned a corner, to find themselves in full view of 
a bridal procession. The bride and groom were in a cart and fol- 
lowed by a decorous crowd of friends and relations, marching in due 
order. A fiddler played a merry tune, and the little Norwegian 
pony jogged along as if he were quite 
aware of what was going on behind him. 

" Oh, don't I wish we could fall into the 
procession," said Sarah, " and go to the 
house and see the fun ! " 

" If we had time, I have no doubt we 
should be welcomed by the family ; for hos- 
pitality is a good Norwegian virtue," said 
her father. 

" Look at the bride ! " said Charles. 
" She is wearing a crown." 

" To be sure. Every bride has her 
crown ; some of them are very valuable, 
and all are well wrought. They are heir- 
looms in the family, along with other silver 
ornaments and articles of table ware. Each 
district has its own costume ; and when the 
people go into Christiania or Bergen, one can tell where they come 
from by the clothes they wear. But these local customs of dress 
are gradually disappearing, I believe." 

They hunted, as usual, for the silversmith's shop, after the pro- 
cession was out of sight, and looked over his stock. He had a 
bride's crown, much like what they had just seen, and Mrs. Van 




The Bride. 



86 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Wyck hesitated long over the question of buying it against Sarah's 
marriage. 

" You see," she whispered to her husband, " Sarah may be mar- 
ried in ten years from now. Suppose she should marry a Norwe- 
gian. How handy this crown would be ! " 

" Yes, imagine her walking up the aisle at St. John's with this 
thinsc on her head ! Now here are some silver buttons. I don't 
mind getting them. Buttons are always useful." 

" Here is my choice," said Mr. Bodley, triumphantly, producing 
a quaint silver ring. " It will do excellently for a scarf ring. It 
is dated 1587. No label, mind you, but engraved in the silver. 
Philip, get out your Norwegian language and hold a little conver- 
sation with this dumb show of a shopkeeper." 

"Did you put that date on?" asked Mr. Van Wyck in his pret- 
tiest Norwegian. 

" I don't talk English," said the shopkeeper, promptly. 

" Nathan, he does n't know his own tongue. Let us see the ring. 
What is this inscription ? ' Sie Deus pro nobus, quis kontro nos. r 
Well clone. There 's Latin spelled by ear evidently. Charles, tell 
us what it means." 

" i If God be for us, who can be against us ? ' " 

" Just so. I think the man who invented that spelling invented 
the elate too." 

" Nonsense ! " said Mr. Bodley. " I believe in the ring, date, 
Latin, and all, and I mean to buy it." 

Shopping over, they returned to the steamer, and went merrily 
on to Throndhjem, and from Throndhjem to Christiansand, and 
then to Molde, where the steamer got rid of nearly all the pas- 
sengers who had not before left. It seemed very quiet now, for 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 87 

our friends had the steamer almost to themselves, and greatly did 
they enjoy the exceedingly beautiful scenery which followed in the 
lovely evening all the way from Molde to Aalesund. There were 
sunset lights and colors, and it was a pleasure to be back under the 
more homelike conditions of Nature. 

" I feel as if I had escaped from an enchanted country," said Mrs. 
Van Wyck. " Look ! there is actually a star. ' I wish I may, I 
wish I might, have the wish I wish to-night.' " 

" What is your wish, mother? " asked Sarah. 

" It would not come to pass, my dear, if I were to tell it." 

" That is the way with wishes," said Sarah, with a sigh. " I was 
just wishing for a letter from Aunt Lucy, and I mentioned it to 
father. Perhaps, if I had n't said anything, he would have pro- 
duced one from his pocket. I almost envy those Norwegian emi- 
grants whom we have been picking up all the way from the North 
Cape. I suppose they are going to Bergen to sail for America." 

" Yes," said her father. " The captain says that the best of the 
men and women are leaving the country. So much the better for 
America ; but I am sorry for Norway." 

It was evening when the Jonas Lie reached Bergen, and our 
friends parted from the captain and mate and pilot; for they were 
to leave the steamer here and make their way across the country to 
Christiania again. They had been nearly three weeks on the boat, 
and they really felt a twinge at leaving it. 

" It is like an old horse," said Sarah, " that has been dragging us 
about. I should like to pat it, if there was any good place." 

" You might pat the boiler, Sarah," said Charles. " That must 
be the heart of the steamer, if any part is." 

" Or the wheel," said her mother. " I always feel as if the wheel 
were what made the boat go." 



88 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



" For my part," said Mr. Van Wyck, " I should go down into the 
enp-ine-room and stroke the piston-rod." 

" Or those little fellows that jump up with so much gravity," said 
Mr. Boclley. 

But the Jonas Lie, if not forgotten, was soon put out of mind, as^ 
our friends made themselves at home in Bergen, and took their 
bearings a little before setting out on their journey " across-lots," as 
Mrs. Van Wyck said. They quite fell in love w r ith the sturdy little 




Fish Market in Bergen. 

town, which braces itself against the sea, with its back to the moun- 
tains. They visited the fish market, and thought of Bjornson's sto- 
ries in which the young peasants seem to think and speak of Bergen 
as the one great town. 

" I can't help fancying," said Mr. Boclley, " that Bergen looks as 
Boston did in the days of our very great grandfathers. Of course, 
the country is different ; there are no mountains about Boston " — 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 



89 



" Beacon Hill," interrupted Charles. 

" And Corey's Hill," said Sarah. 

" You are young New Yorkers with your saucy gibes," went on 
Mr. Bodley. " Let me finish. What makes me think of the Bos- 
ton of the end of the seventeenth century, for instance, are these 
crowded, narrow streets, with such an infusion of the old salt ele- 




A Street in Bergen. 

ment. When I was a boy I used to get glimpses of old Boston 
about the North End, and it was not wholly unlike this." 

" Did you ever see so many odd turns, and such disorder in the 
arrangement of streets ? " exclaimed Mrs. Bodley. And no wonder, 
for while some were straight enough, the Bergen people never 
seemed to have troubled themselves to level their rocky town, but 
had led their streets and lanes round and over hills and steeps in the 



90 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



most confusing manner. Behind the streets in which they walked 
they could make out half -hid den passages and courts ; and though 
all this could scarcely increase the charm of living, it certainly gave 
a picturesque air to the place. 




"No wonder there is so much art in connection with Bergen," 
said Mr. Van Wyck. 
" Art ? " asked his wife. 
" Yes. I do not know so much of the pictorial art, yet consider 



SOUTHWARD BOUND. 



91 



what Bjornson has made of it, and what vigorous work is done here 
in music and the drama." 

" Oh, this was Ole Bull's home, was n't it ? " said Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" To be sure. He was born and bred here, and any one who knew 
him or has read the sketches of him that have appeared, 1 can read- 
ily see that he was a son of the soil, and his musical nature was fed 
from springs of popular life. That fiddle which we saw the other 
day at Mosjoen meant that 
the people had music as a 
familiar friend and not as 
an imported luxury." 

" I should like to have 
heard him play in Bergen, 
amongst his own people," 
said Mrs. Boclley. 

" So should I. He is the 
distinctest figure among all 
our great musicians, I think. 
Who that ever saw him come 
upon the stage could forget 
that graceful figure, that 
mingling of dignity and af- 
fectionateness which made 
him and his fiddle so enchanting ? " 

" Yes, enchanting is just the word," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " He 
always seemed to me to have an air about him as if he enjoyed an 
understanding with the little gnome who lived in the violin." 




Ole Bull playing. 



1 Mr. Van Wyck was speaking before he could have read Mrs. Bull's faithful and genuine 
story of her husband's life. 



92 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Longfellow has drawn his picture at full length," said her hus- 
band. " Nothing could be better than his lines ; and he has hinted 
at your feeling, Phippy. 

" ' Last the Musician, as he stood 
Illumined by that fire of wood ; 
Fair-haired, blue-eyed, his aspect blithe, 
His figure tall and straight and lithe, 
And every feature of his face 
Revealing his Norwegian race ; 
A radiance, streaming from within, 
Around his eyes and forehead beamed, 
The Angel with the violin, 
Painted by Raphael, he seemed. 
He lived in that ideal world 
Whose language is not speech, but song; 
Around him evermore the throng* 
Of elves and sprites their dances whirled ; 
The Stromkarl sang, the cataract hurled 
Its headlong; waters from the height ; 
And mingled in the wild delight 
The scream of sea-birds in their flight, 
The rumor of the forest trees, 
The plunge of the implacable seas, 
The tumult of the wind at night, 
Voices of eld, like trumpets blowing, 
Old ballads, and wild melodies 
Through mist and darkness pouring forth, 
Like Elivagar's river flowing 
Out of the glaciers of the North.' 

There is more than portrait there, but I could not help going on." 

" I wish I had seen him," said Sarah. 

" So do I," said her father. " If I had known that he was to die, 
I would have taken you to whatever place he was going to play 
in ; but it chanced that you were too young or were not at home 
when he played most. There was some good reason." 



ACROSS LOTS. 93 

" Let it be a warning to you, my dear papa," and she shook her 
forefinger gravely, " never to lose an opportunity when I may 
chance to see a genius." 

" I never mean to," said her father, with energy. " I would not 
miss the few childish recollections of great men and great scenes 
which I possess. They are worth a great deal more than some of 
my maturer knowledge." 



CHAPTER VI. 

ACROSS LOTS. 

Bergen was the starting-point for our travelers, who meant to 
follow the winding waters of the Hardanger Fjord, then cross to 
the Sogne Fjord, and so across the Fillefjeld, and by Valders back 
to Christiania. They had studied carefully the various routes by 
which they could cross the country, and had decided that this of- 
fered the most attraction for the short time which was at their dis- 
posal. They wanted to see something of the interior of the coun- 
try, and to get a little more closely to Norwegian life than was 
possible on their northern trip. 

" That was like seeing an endless panorama," said Mr. Bodley. 
" I want to get round behind and see the man who turns the 
crank." 

" There will be a good deal of panorama at the beginning, I 
fancy," said Mr. Van Wyck, " if T can trust the guide-book." 

They left Bergen in the late evening by a little boat, The Viking, 



94 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

which was to transfer them in the morning to the regular steamer 
which plies on the Hardanger Fjord, and early the next day they 
were at Lervik, waiting for the Folgefond, which was named for a 
great glacier under which it was in the habit of steaming. It was 
before breakfast that they were to get on the Folgefond ; but they 
had their coffee on The Viking. 

(i How singular it is," said Mrs. Bodley, " that we get such good 
coffee in Norway. There is always abundance of cream, yet I have 
hardly seen a spear of grass in the country, and the cows look as 
though they could only give down a pint a day." 

" Probably that pint is all cream," said her husband. " But it is 
curious. We have not missed delicious cream our whole voyage. 
The coffee, however, is the thing. They know how to make it. 
I 've not had a poor cup of coffee in Norway." 

" Nor a good one in England," said his sister. 

The Folgefond at last appeared and took our little party on 
board. They had the prospect of a long day of steaming before 
they should reach Odde at the foot of the fjord, and it was with a 
little sense of weariness that they again felt the throb of the en- 
gine, and saw the familiar sights. Nevertheless, they knew well 
that they should see different sights from what they had seen on 
the coast, for now they were penetrating the heart of the mountain 
district. Alas, for the bright promise of the day ! the wind brought 
clouds, and the clouds rain, which fell in frequent showers all the 
morning, and after dinner, when the steamer entered the Graven 
Fjord, it came down in a steady pour. The people paced the decks 
like caged tame animals, and looked off on the wet hills dripping 
with waterfalls. 

" Was it really worth while to come so far to see so much wa- 
ter ? " sighed Mrs. Van Wyck. 



ACROSS LOTS. 95 

Certainly rain had the most depressing effect on their spirits. 
There was, however, one small favor : the boat made only the short- 
est stay at each station, keeping its advertised hours of arrival and 
departure with admirable punctuality. A little variety was caused 
by the occasional irregular stoppages, not at stations, but for boats 
which hailed the steamer in the middle of the fjord. They would 
put out from some little hamlet with a single passenger, and lie 
in wait for the steamer, skillfully come alongside, as the engine 
stopped, and then at the risk of a splashing, which they sometimes 
caught, the man would spring aboard, his boxes would be tossed 
after him, the engine meanwhile starting again, and the rowers in 
the boat exceedingly anxious to get away before they were sucked 
into the screw's vortex. Quite often the boats were womaned, and 
not manned, and by young girls, no older than Sarah, who pulled 
lustily. 

At last the rain ceased, the clouds broke away, the sun came out ; 
and in a trice our friends were in the best of spirits again ; for they 
knew that the finest scenery on the fjord was yet before them. 
There is a long and narrow arm of the Hardanger, extending to 
the south, and the steamer follows it to its very end. There was 
a great deal of life on the fjord, and the interest was continually 
deepening. On either side were lofty hills and mountains, with 
only this ribbon of water between. Far up were rocks and snow 
and ice, with waterfalls tumbling from the glacier ; and below, at 
the foot, clinging to the precipitous sides, were villages and houses 
which sometimes really looked as if they must slip off. 

" What in the world," asked Mrs. Bodley, " is that hanging on 
those trellises ? It looks suspiciously like grass." 

" So it is," said her husband, " or was. It is fast becoming hay. 



96 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

They cut their little patches of grass and hang them on these ex- 
temporized trellises to dry. It could not dry fast enough or well 
enough on the ground. The sun gets at it better now, and the sun 
has a hard time evidently getting at any piece of grass-land here in 
Norway." 

" What are those curious frames for, that stretch up the hill ? " 
asked Charles. 

"If you look closer, Charles," said his father, "you will see long 
ropes stretching from frame to frame. They are rope- ways for 
sending down the hay or what-not that is raised on little patches up 
there. There is a little more sun up there and a little scanty herb- 
age, you see ; but certainly it is farming under difficulties." 

" The Norwegian builds his house here as he does on the coast," 
said Mr. Van Wyck. " There he finds a harbor, and no matter how 
rocky and forbidding its immediate surrounding, he plants his house 
and a village grows up. It is the harbor that makes it. Here he 
finds a little patch of grass, and no matter how inaccessible it may 
appear, he builds his house near it." 

It was marvelous to see where some had established themselves. 
High up the cliff, where the peasant must always climb, would 
these farms be perched, and one place on the east side was a mere 
patch of green at a dizzy height, which, so far as the eye could see, 
was equally inaccessible either from above or below. Yet here, on 
these farms, men were living who were counted rich, as riches go in 
this country. It certainly was impressive to see the glittering gla- 
cier high up, spread over the mountain-top and hanging over the 
sides ; while below it were rocks and waterfalls, then straggling 
trees, and a little lower only the houses and farms ; while at the 
base, upon the fjord, would be a few more houses with a mill fed 



ACROSS LOTS. 97 

from a waterfall, and a pier for the boat. Near the pier was pretty 
sure to be a substantial house with all the signs of comfort and good 
taste about it. 

Before the boat reached Odde, the mountains came even nearer, 
and on the east side rose to great height. Perhaps they were not 
remarkably high, but they formed a stupendous crag, with another 
facing it, the two giants separated by a ravine down which tumbled 
cascades. 

" These are certainly the mightiest rocks I ever looked on," said 
Mrs. Van Wyck. "Is it because I am so near them ? " 

" It is partly that, I fancy," said her husband, " and partly the 
character of the rocks themselves. Their faces are so seamed and 
scarred ; they look so old and weather-worn. There is no hint of 
vegetation about them except a few lichens." 

u They are perfectly appalling," she said vehemently. " I really 
am afraid of them. They are so grim, so immovable. I don't 
know why, but they seem to invite some giant just to try to see if 
he can push them. Do let 's get past." 

" I think they would be more fearful if they were not so immov- 
able," said her husband, dryly. " However, we are going past 
them, and shall soon be at Odde." 

The steamer reached Odde, where it was to lie all night, at about 
half after nine in the evening. The ladies and Sarah and Charles 
stowed themselves away ; but Mr. Bodley and Mr. Van Wyck said 
they were cramped and wanted to stretch their legs, so they stepped 
along the only road they saw, through the little village. It led 
southward, by the side of a brawling, snowy-white stream, and by 
an easy ascent of perhaps twenty minutes, placed them at the head 
•of the rapids, whence they looked back on the village at their feet. 

7 



98 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

They were in a narrow gorge, and kept on until they came to a 
bridge crossing the head of the stream. There, to their surprise, 
they found the water issuing from a long lake, or mountain tarn. 
The sky had been overclouded and it was rather dark. 

" Let us keep on this road and see where it goes to," said Mr. 
Bodley. 

" I see a waterfall," said Mr. Van Wyck. " In fact, I see two. 
We '11 go as far as to them." 

The road presently became only the width of a cariole track, 
hugging the cliff on one side and built up above the water on the 
other. Large stones, placed at distances of four or five feet, pro- 
tected one from going over the side, and in places the cliff leaned 
over toward the road. It grew darker, though it was always twi- 
light, and there were drops of rain. Then the stars came out, and 
the sky showed patches of blue. The road wound and wound, and 
the cataracts always seemed just a little way ahead. They could see 
one across the lake, tumbling down from the ghostly Folgefond gla- 
cier, and the other they caught glimpses of, but never could seem 
to reach. There were hollows in the cliff above them, forming deep 
shadows, and in the gloom they fancied the tops, which they could 
sometimes descry, to be thousands of feet above them. After four 
or five miles of walking, they turned back. 

" That waterfall is a will-o'-the-wisp," said Mr. Van Wyck. " I 
don't propose to chase it all over Norway." 

It was midnight before they were again at the village. Every- 
body on the steamer was fast asleep, but the doors were wide open, 
and our two travelers found empty sofas, upon which they stretched 
themselves for the rest of the night. The next day the steamer re- 
traced its way from Odde, and left our friends at the little station of 



ACROSS LOTS. 99 

Eiclfjord. They stopped here that they might make an excursion 
to one of the famous waterfalls of Norway, the Voringsfos. 

" This, I suppose, is the beginning of our real excursionizing in 
Norway," said Sarah. " We can't count the journey to the North 
Cape, when we just sat in the steamboat and let it take us where it 
would." 

"Very well, Sarah," said her father, "let us see how you will 
stand the first day's jaunt." 

It was not a very severe walk to the waterfall, though it was a 
long one. There is a society in Norway, like the Appalachian 
Club, which not only entertains itself with climbing mountains, but 
cuts paths and builds huts. It had been at work here and made 
the path easier than it would have been. A lake was first crossed 
in boats, and then the way led through a wild and desolate region, 
with towering cliffs on either side of a foaming stream. Long be- 
fore they reached the fall they could hear the roar of the water, 
and could see afar off the mist rising high above the fall. 

" How high is the fall, father ? " asked Charles. 

" Four hundred and seventy-five feet," said Mr. Bodley, promptly. 
" I just read it in the guide-book. Come ! don't you want to go 
near it ? " 

The ladies remained behind ; but Mr. Bodley and Mr. Van Wyck 
and Charles put on their rubber coats and followed a wet bank and 
then crawled over some slippery rocks trying to get near the falls ; 
but there was such a blinding spray which struck them like hail, 
that at last they could go no further. They stood with their backs 
to the falls, turning their heads half way, now and then, in a vain 
attempt to stand the pelting and see the cataract, which was all the 
while tumbling between its walls of rock, and making a terrible 



100 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

noise. It was no use : they could get no nearer, and so they came 
back to the bridge where the ladies were. 

" Now," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " how unnecessary all that was ! 
We were perfectly comfortable here, and have been enjoying the 
fall, while you poor people have made yourselves sloppy and have 
seen nothing." 

" Well, I hope you have saved some sandwiches for us," said her 
husband. " I must say there are few things so revolting as to jeop- 
ardize your skin for the sake of seeing one of the great bursts of 
nature and then come back to find your wife calmly eating sand- 
wiches on a bridge." 

But there was enough left for the ferocious Mr. Van Wyck, and 
after they had all rested, they took their way back leisurely to the 
inn at Vik ; the whole excursion had kept them on their feet eight 
hours. The next morning they took a boat with three good rowers 
and pulled across the fjord to the Ulvik Fjord. 

" This is like taking a carriage," said Mr. Bodley. " These people 
use boats to go from place to place in, just as we should drive. 
They have a regular tariff, of so much a mile ; and Vik is one of 
the stations where they are obliged to keep boats for travelers, just 
as elsewhere they are obliged to keep horses." 

" I should think it would be nearer to row straight across to 
Ulvik, instead of keeping along the winding shore," said Sarah. 

" No, it is easier to row under the shelter of the land, and we do 
not really lose any time I think." 

This was very clear when it became necessary to pull across the 
open fjord to the opposite side. They were met by wind which 
roughed the water so that the rowers pulled laboriously until they 
were again under shelter upon the banks of the Ulvik Fjord. 



ACROSS LOTS. 101 

" Wolf-creek," explained Mr. Van Wyck, learnedly. " The wolves 
are gone ; but the creek remains, and the name of wolf." 

" It ought to be Lamb-creek," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " This is the 
most smiling and pastoral little spot we have yet seen." 

" Do you remember that it has passed into our literature ? " asked 
Mrs. Bodley. 

" Why, no." 

" To be sure. Did you never read Bayard Taylor's ' Lars ? ' " 

" No." 

"Well, Phippy, as soon as you get back to America you must 
read one of the most thoroughly interesting pastorals in the lan- 
guage. Lars is a Norwegian who kills a man in a quarrel and 
flies to America, where he becomes a Quaker, marries a Quaker girl, 
and comes back here to the scene of his conflict to meet the avenger 
of his antagonist, and to disarm him by gentleness. That is the 
bare story, and it is filled with delightful contrasts." 

" And Ulvik is one of the scenes ? " 

" Yes, it was here that the story opens, with Lars among his Nor- 
wegian kinsfolk, and if we carry out Philip's plan we shall cross to 
Graven, where another scene was laid." 

They dismissed the boat at Brakenaes, and engaged two boys to 
carry the ladies' bags, for most of the luggage had been sent on by 
the steamer to Christiania, and they were traveling now light- 
handed. Then they set merrily out to climb the hill-side above 
Ulvik Fjord, for they meant to walk to Graven, a distance of about 
fourteen miles. 

" What an odd idea to bury a man alone right here by the road- 
side," said Charles, surveying a stick which was thrust into the 
ground and bearing a head-board on which was inscribed the name 
of Anders Ericssen. 



102 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Here 's another," said Sarah, as they went a little further on. 

" Why do you bury Anders Ericssen here and not in the church- 
yard ? " Mr. Van Wyck asked one of the boys in his choicest Nor- 
wegian. The boy stared at him, looked at his comrade, and then 
burst into a laugh. The two boys at once began explaining ; but it 
did not make their Norwegian twice as easy to be understood. By 
dint of patient inquiry, however, Mr. Yan Wyck solved the riddle. 

" It seems," he said, " that the road is kept in repair by the farm- 
ers whose land lies by the way. Each is bound to keep in order a 
certain part of the road, his share being in proportion to the size of 
his farm, and these stakes indicate just who is responsible for the 
road which lies between them." 

" Somewhat as in New England taxes are worked out," said Mr. 
Boclley. 

" Yes, only there is not this public register of a man's faithfulness 
or remissness. Anders Ericssen, for example, has looked after his 
piece very carefully." 

It was a pretty hard walk, and they were nearly five hours at it, 
stopping to rest as they chose. They were very glad to stop when 
they came in view of Graven Fjord, for just then the sun came out 
for a few minutes, and bathed in light the lovely water below them. 
They passed few houses after they left the slope near Ulvik. Here 
and there was a saeter with a few horses and cows and sheep, but 
not a human being did they meet. After they reached the shore of 
the fjord, they still had to walk two or three miles before they came 
to the station where they were to dismiss the boys and take horse 
over the highway. They managed to get a few eggs to eat, for 
they were ravenously hungry, and here they made their first ac- 
quaintance with fladbrod, of which they had often heard. 



ACROSS LOTS. 103 

" So this is flat-bread, is it ? " said Mrs. Van Wyck, eyeing a pile 
of it which had been placed on the table. " It is as thin as the thin 
gingerbread which mother used to make." 

" But in what enormous sheets this thin and crisp flat-bread is 
made ! " said Mrs. Bodley. " I really must nibble a little of the 
edge." 

" Is it like gingerbread, mother ? " asked Charles, who watched 
her curiously. 

" Try it yourself, Charles." 

" It crumbles in the mouth, but tastes like preserved sawdust. I 
am so hungry, though, that I think I will eat an acre or two." 

The meal, which Sarah called a breakfast at four o'clock in the 
afternoon, was taken in a room where there was a half -made bed, a 
swinging cradle, and odds and ends of the family sitting about in 
silent admiration. When it was over, the announcement was made 
that the horses were ready. 

" Are we to have carioles ? " asked Charles, eagerly. 

" Three carioles and two stolkjseres," counted Mr. Bodley. " We 
shall have to toss up." But it ended in the ladies dividing the stol- 
kjseres between them, while Mr. Bodley and Mr. Van Wyck and 
Charles took possession of the carioles. 

"What a queer looking object the cariole is ! " said Mrs. Bodley. 

" Yes," said her husband, " it is a case of arrested development. 
A little more and it would be a sulky, perhaps even a chaise." 

" It is a little like a country doctor's sulky, without any top," 
said Mrs. Van Wyck. " Is it comfortable, Charles ? " she asked. 

" Splendid," said the boy, who had climbed into his, and sat on 
the small seat, uncertain whether to thrust his leers straight out be- 
fore him on the narrow floor of the vehicle, or to let them hang 



104 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



over the sides. The post-boy jumped upon a little tail-board behind 
Charles, where he crouched or sat or kneeled, as the mood took him, 
and drove the horse, though it was not long before Charles got the 
reins into his own hands. The stolkjsere was a cart without springs, 
holding two. 

" I think the inventor of fladbrod must have discovered the stol- 
kjsere," said Mrs. Yan Wyck, after they had jounced and jolted 
awhile in it. " Charles," she called out, "is it really comfortable ? " 




Vossevangen. 

" I can't quite get the hang of it," said he. " I feel so helpless. 
It makes me half lie down, and I bounce up and down like a rubber 
ball." 

" Sit up straighter," said his father. " You '11 soon adjust yourself 
to it;" and soon he did succeed in making himself at home in the 
queer vehicle. The horses were all small, coffee-colored, bright lit- 



ACROSS LOTS. 105 

tie beasts that jogged along good-naturedly, and seemed to take an 
interest in the scenery. Shortly after leaving the station they be- 
gan to climb a series of zigzags which led up the valley of the 
Skjerv. They crossed by a strong stone bridge over the Skjerves- 
fos, which foamed through the arches and fell far below them. It 
was a gloomy valley and a most picturesque drive, and when they 
were fairly at the top the boys made the horses scramble over the 
road with a will, and in a little more than a couple of hours they 
had covered the fourteen miles which lay between their starting- 
point and Vossevangen. 

The party dismounted from their vehicles at the very unpromis- 
ing-looking house which was known as Dykesten's or Vossevangen' 8 
Hotel, for the s had to struggle for a place on the sign-board. There 
was time for a stroll before supper, so they hunted up an old woman 
who let them into the church, which was said to date from the thir- 
teenth century. There was little to see inside, but the old woman 
herself was very picturesque. Mr. Van Wyck acted as spokesman 
of the party, and aired his Norwegian with great alacrity. 

" She is a most sympathetic old woman," he remarked to his 
friends, between the sentences of the conversation which he held 
with her. " She is asking after the relationship of all the party, 
and how many fathers and mothers we have at home." 

" But what did she laugh so heartily about just now, Philip ? " 
asked Mr. Bodley. 

" Oh, it was a piece of my American humor. We were speaking 
of the age of the church, and I remarked that it was older than 
both of our ages put together. It really is delightful to find a Nor- 
wegian peasant who can appreciate my jokes." 

" You ought to attach her to the party, father," said Sarah. " I 



106 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

am sure it would make your life a more joyful one, for mother and 
I never do laugh as much as we ought at your jokes." 

" No. You always say, i Oh, father ! ' as if I had just missed of 
committing a crime." 

" They all have relations in America," said Mr. Van Wyck, " but 
they are usually in Iowa or Wisconsin or Minnesota or Montana. 
This good old woman was disappointed that I had never seen her 
boy Peter in Skalkaho, Montana." 

The next morning they kept on their way to Gudvangen, four 
stations distant. The mode of traveling by the country roads in 
Norway is a very simple one. You take your horse and cart or 
cariole to the next station from your starting-point, and there you 
can change and take another, which the station-master is bound to 
provide to the station next beyond, each time changing boy, horse, 
and cariole. The boy drives you, or lets you drive, and afterward 
takes the cariole back. But if you choose, you can arrange with 
your driver to take you as much farther as you both may desire ; 
no boy, however, is obliged to go with you more than to the next 
station, which is perhaps ten or twelve miles distant, perhaps even 
fifteen. The stations are simply farms which have been made posts 
by the government. The farmer is obliged to keep a certain num- 
ber of horses on hand, to provide a boy, and also to give lodging 
and meals when desired. There is a fixed tariff, and every traveler 
can count on being treated like every other traveler. 

Our party, when traveling in this way, was variously distributed, 
sometimes in carioles, sometimes in stolkjgeres. They might, if they 
had chosen, have hired a carriage for long distances, but they were 
all so in love with cariole driving that they had no mind to try any 
other mode. The variety of boys that they enjoyed gave them end- 



ACROSS LOTS. 



107 



less entertainment. It is the custom, to give the boy who drives 
you a little gratuity on parting with him, and he always holds out 
his hand to shake hands with you, after receiving it. Sarah under- 
took to teach her boys English. 

" It is much easier than learning Norwegian," she said ; " and, be- 
sides, it will be of so 
much more use to them 
all their life than Nor- 
wegian possibly can be 
to me." 

The road was an in- 
teresting one, but the 
interest culminated 
when they reached Stal- 
heim. They climbed a 
little ascent and sud- 
denly found themselves 
on the brow of a pre- 
cipitous descent into 
the valley below on the 
other side. They 
jumped out of their 
carioles and carts, and 
looked down, down, into 
the gorge below them. The road led by a series of zigzags down 
the Stalheimsklef upon which they stood. It was a masterly piece 
of engineering and masonry, almost a plumb line on its side from 
top to bottom, as it wormed its way down the precipice. Immense 
heights, especially that of Jordalsknut, looked down into the valley. 




'$/*.• I •^-■f/w.ojv 



Stalheim and Jordalsknut. 



108 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



They all walked down the road, much preferring that to driving. 
Two superb waterfalls were on either hand, so that at each turn of 
the road one was always before them, while at the foot was a green 
meadow with a clear river flowing through it. They returned to 
their vehicles at the foot of the cliff, and drove rapidly forward 
along the bank of the river toward Gudvangen. The mountain 




Gudvangen. 



appeared to close in the pass, and at last our friends were in a 
narrow defile. Gudvangen itself was a single street with two or 
three houses on either side, the whole jammed into a crack between 
frowning mountains, with just room enough to keep dry between 
the fjord, at the head of which it lay, and the river which flowed 
through the Naerodal. 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 



109 



CHAPTER VII. 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 



"What a place to live in! " said Sarah, as they all stood, early 
the next morning, on the deck of the steamer which was to carry 
them from Gudvangen to Laerdalsoren. No wonder she was dis- 
mayed. Two or three lonely houses crouched sunless beneath the 







Laerdalsoren. 



cliff, and an air of desolation hung over the fjord. They had been 
rowed out in boats to the steamer, and each boat was crowded with 
luggage and people, some sitting, some standing. 

" I fancy we look like an engraving," said Charles. " I have seen 
just such pictures." 



110 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

The sun came out before they were fairly out of this arm of the 
fjord, and when they reached Laerclalsoren, the end of the steamer's 
course, everything was bright and lovely. A crowd of men and 
boys were at the steamboat pier, with carts and carioles, eager to 
secure passengers. 

" How homelike this is ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. " I should think 
we were among our own people." They were not meaning to stop 
at all in the village, so they bargained for their several vehicles, and 
were soon merrily on their way, meaning to scurry over the road, 
which led up the heights of the great backbone of mountains which 
runs through Norway. 

" Father," said Sarah, who was sharing a stolkjsere with him, 
66 where is the Doverfield ? I used to study about it in my geog- 
raphy." 

"The namevfjeld or field or fell is given to certain parts of the 
mountain plateau of Norway, and the Dovrefjeld is the most famous 
of the ranges. That lies to the north, however. We are to cross 
the Fillefjeld, more to the south. There are no passes through these 
mountains, as in Switzerland, among the Alps, but the table-land is 
easily accessible, and above it rise higher peaks like Jotunheim, 
which we shall see if it is clear." 

" How is your horse, Charles ? " Sarah asked, as her cousin drove 
alongside in his cariole. 

" Capital," said he ; " and what do you think ? This cariole has 
stirrups. See, I can put my feet in them and stand up. It is just 
as if I were riding a carriage horse-back. Besides, I 've learned 
how to suit myself to the dancing-jig motion of the cariole. It is 
the perfection of traveling." 

" So it is," said Mr. Van Wyck. " We are as independent as it 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. Ill 

is possible for people to be. "We can stop where we choose, stay 
as long as we want to, and start off at any hour of day or night." 

" What a queer noise the boy makes when he wants to stop the 
little horse," said Charles. " This way — brrrr. Hallo ! " He had 
made the sound so successfully that his pony almost sat down on his 
haunches. 

" Why do you have such long reins, Charles ? " continued his 
cousin. " They are ropes, are n't they ? " 

" To be sure they are. I 've rope enough to hang the whole 
party with ; but see how convenient the length is. I can make a 
whip out of the extra part," and so saying, he gathered up the long 
end of the rope, flung it at the pony's back, and off he set, out of 
talking distance. 

They had left Laerdal at ten, and for the first part of the way 
had traveled over a tolerably level country ; but after leaving Blaa- 
faten the road followed the foaming stream which came down the 
mountain side. It rose higher and higher, crawling round and round 
cliffs out of which it had been dug, and overlooking the boiling 
torrent below. It was a little after noon when the party reached 
Husum, where they stopped to get their midday meal. It was a 
nice clean station, and furnished eggs and coffee and salmon in 
abundance. 

" I am afraid we must give up our salmon after this," said Mr. 
Bodley. "We have had salmon ever since we came to Norway, but 
then we have been on the coast all the while. Back in the moun- 
tains we can hardly expect to find it fresh." 

When they left Husum and continued their journey up the moun- 
tain, Sarah chanced to have a cariole to herself, and she was greatly 
entertained by her skydsgut (pronounced shoos-goot) or post-boy, 



112 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



Olaf Husum. All the people take for their name that of the farm 
on which they live ; and as Olaf was the son of the farmer at Hu- 
sum, he was Olaf Husum. He was only nine years old. Sarah had 
picked up a little Norwegian in her travels, and began plying him 
with short and easy questions. It was not very difficult to ask ques- 
tions, but the boy's tongue was at once loosed, and he rattled away 
merrily while Sarah followed a long distance behind in her mind, 
painfully examining such words as she had caught. He amused 




Husum. 



himself with all sorts of pranks. He had extemporized some whis- 
tles out of disused cartridge shells, and would suddenly whistle most 
improperly in Sarah's ears, and then stretch forward and laugh. 
He even pinched her once or twice, but his supreme pleasure was 
in opening and shutting her umbrella, which he carried while she 
drove. He was such a little fellow, small for his years, that Sarah 
felt him very much on her mind, especially as he was on the point 
of tumbling off his perch every time the horse started forward. 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 



113 



The road wound much as before through a fine ravine, and then 
came out by the curious old church at Borgund. Olaf ran himself 
quite out of breath to find the man who had the key. The party 
had all dismounted, and when the man came they followed him over 
a stone wall and through a field to the deserted church. 

" Is n't it used now ? " asked Mrs. Bodley. 

" No," explained the man, in good English. " The new one here 
was built a few years ago. This is the property of the Antiquarian 
Society of Christiania." 




Church of Borgund. 



The curious church was twisted to the eye, and was surmounted 
by dragons' heads, while serpents were carved in the door-posts. 
Inside it was as dark as a pocket. They appeared to have brought 
with them the only light that entered when they opened the door. 

" How could the people see to worship ! " exclaimed Mrs. Bodley. 

" They had candles, madam," said the man, " wax candles." 

There was a passage like a cloister which ran round the inside, 



114 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

and the interior seemed scarcely able to hold more than forty or 
fifty persons. 

" It looks, inside and out," said Mr. Bodley, " as if they worshiped 
the Devil here." 

" I suppose," said his wife, " that all this fantastic work corre- 
sponds to the fooling in wood and stone in the Gothic cathedrals 
which we have been seeing." 

" It is more likely," said Mr. Van Wyck, " that it is due to Byzan- 
tine influence. You know there was frequent intercourse between 
Norway and Constantinople." 

" How old is the church ? " asked Sarah. 

" It is from the twelfth century," said the man. " Do you see 
this inscription o^ the door ? In English it is, ' Thorer wrote these 
lines on St. Olaf's fair. This church in the church-ground.' " 

" What an extraordinary simpleton Thorer must have been," said 
the irreverent Sarah, " to carve such a piece of commonplace. 
What language is it in ? " 

" It is Runic. This is Runic on the door-key, also," and he showed 
them the key, which they had not noticed before, — a ponderous 
thing, curiously carved. 

" How strange the old church looks out here in the field," said 
Mrs. Bodley. " I do hope the Antiquarian Society won't take it into 
their heads to move the building to Christiania, so as to have it on 
hand for a show. It would lose some of its charm if it were taken 
out of its setting." 

Our friends mounted their vehicles again and drove on to Haeg. 
Sarah's little Olaf left her here ; but she had another Olaf, not 
much older, Olaf Haeg. The little fellow did not want to go. He 
cried, but there was no help for it : go he must, and he sat discon- 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 115 

solately on the tail-board, his legs hanging dejectedly over. Sarah 
made an effort to cheer him with animated conversation. She asked 
him to guess where she came from. She tried him with the name 
of Andersen, with the titles of Bjornson's stories, but could get 
scarcely more than monosyllables from him. He brightened a little, 
however, when she began to teach him the English numerals, and 
they counted by turns in English and Norwegian, almost as far as 
Maristuen. 

Maristuen was a forlorn little station, high up the mountain side ; 
but the next station, Nystuen, was at the very top, and though they 
had driven all day, they determined to push on and spend the night 
there. The road led through a desolate, treeless, and lifeless waste, 
save for a saeter, which they passed, where cows, goats, pigs, and 
horses showed themselves, but no people. A little after nine o'clock 
in the evening they reached Nystuen, which stands on the top of 
the divide. 

"It is like an Alpine hospice on a small scale," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
and it had this air. Long, low, rambling buildings were crowded 
together in a rocky waste. A desolate moor stretched on either side, 
and a dismal tarn, weedy and dark, stood hard by. The place was 
crowded with travelers going the other way, whose carioles and 
carts stood about the yard. The people were very good-natured, 
however, and gave our friends an excellent supper and then stowed 
them away in different buildings, as they could find accommodation. 

The next day opened with rain, and it was very evident that they 
should not see Jotunheim ; so they resigned themselves to the inev- 
itable, and after an early breakfast set off down hill, and a long hill 
it was. They had driven about fifty miles the day before, and 
meant to drive a little farther this day. It was a pleasure to come 



116 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 






upon the beautiful lake by Vang and to follow along its banks, and 
afterward between Tune and Oilo to drive by a massive road built 
up from the rushing stream below under an overhanging cliff, and 
protected from falling snow and stones by a wooden shed, through 
which they drove. 

" It seems to me that we are always driving by water," said 
Charles. " It rained when we started ; we had the Vang lake and 

now we have this stream. 
I suppose we shall come to 
a fjord before we get 
through." 

" Yes, that is the charm 
of Norway," said his mother. 
" One is never far from the 
sound of many waters." 

" Except for the road," 
said Mr. Boclley, " I could 
almost fancy myself in New 
Hampshire. We have no 
such superbly-built roads 
there ; but the scenery is 
like it." It was even more 
like it when, in the afternoon, they drove through pine woods, with- 
squirrels darting across their path, and later came into the Conway- 
like district of Valders. 

" What is that odd-looking tuft on the stick above that barn? " 
asked Sarah of her father, with whom she was driving. 

" To be sure ! " he exclaimed. " The rest must see it ; " and by 
hallooing and pointing, he managed to call the attention of all the 
party to it. 




Between Tune and Oilo. 




THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF. 



OVER THE F1LLEFJELD. 119 

" I am glad we have seen that," he said to Sarah. " I have been 
hoping we should come upon one. Have you never heard of the 
pretty Norwegian custom of fastening bunches of oats to the roofs 
of houses at Christmas time for the birds to feed from ? I suppose 
this is a sheaf which was not taken down after it had been stripped. 
The farmers sell sheaves in the towns for this purpose, just as 
^Christmas wreaths and trees are sold with us." 

1 " What a pretty notion to give the birds a Christmas-tree ! " said 
►Sarah. 

" Yes, and there is a charming poem by Wergeland, a Norwegian 
poet, suggested by it. I bought a copy of his writings in Christi- 
ania, and if you won't tell any one, Sarah, I '11 tell you a secret. I 
am translating the poem, and when I get it done, I will show it to 
you." 

" And to Charles ? " 

" Oh, yes. I am not shy when I do anything of this sort. But I 
don't want to be bothered by being asked by everybody how I am 
getting on with it. It 's slow work ; so don't you tell and don't you 
ask me either." 

It was late in the evening before they reached Fagerlund, where 
they spent the night, and the next clay kept on to Odnaes, where 
they were to give up carriage-driving and take a steamboat, and 
afterward the railway, to Christiania. On the road they had dinner 
at Tomlevolden, an excellent example of a nourishing Norwegian 
farm. There was a collection of sheds and outbuildings, flanking a 
large house, or rather two houses, making three sides of a square. 
The main house had a gallery in the second story, into which the 
staircase led. The rooms were all large and scrupulously clean. 
In the kitchen was a great open fire-place with embers, and a kettle 



120 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

over it ; but a new cooking- stove evidently did most of the work. 
The farmer himself was a large, heavy man, who ordered every- 
body about ; and his daughter, a pretty, red-haired girl, who seemed 
to find her work irksome, got dinner. A piano was in the large 
parlor, and a great array of photographs hung upon the wall or 
were placed in a morocco book. 

" This is like a New England farm-house, where they take sum- 
mer-boarders," said Mrs. Van Wyck. '*' It is different, of course, in 
some respects ; but the people are the same. The daughter of the 
house teaches school, may be, in the winter, and in summer waits 
on the boarders. She hates to do it, for she knows she is just as 
good as they are, and might herself be boarding." 

" Yes," said her husband, " the trouble is that she thinks too much 
about it, and fancies a great many things which are not so. The 
summer-boarder does not feel nearly so superior as the daughter of 
the house thinks." 

Odnaes was the end of their land journey. Here they spent the 
night at a good inn, and the next day took the steamer on Lake 
Randsfjord, which is almost like a river, so narrow and long is it. 
The banks were very pretty, sometimes wooded, sometimes culti- 
vated, and dotted with snug, tidy-looking farms. Except for hav- 
ing no islands, it made our travelers think of Lake Winnipiseogee in 
the White Mountains at home. The scenery no longer had a wild 
character. It was clear that they were well out of the mountains. 

" I really am sorry to leave the mountains," sighed Sarah. 

" Yes," said her mother. " It is astonishing how quickly one gets 
intimate with mountains. I think one mountain always in sight 
would be rather overpowering ; but give me three or four weeks' 
constant traveling among them. It is like being at a party of 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 121 

mountains all the while. It is not nearly so alarming as sitting 
down vis-u-vis with one solitary peak." 

" We have one more famous sight before us," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
after they were seated in the train at Randsfjord, at the foot of the 
lake ; " only, according to the guide-book, we should be coming this 
way." 

" We can turn our heads, can't we ? " said his wife. 

Indeed, it was almost a sight to turn their heads. The road after 
leaving Drammen made a great circuit and a rise before it passed 
through a tunnel ; and just as they were to enter the tunnel they 
turned and saw a superb panorama of the fjord and town of Dram- 
men and the meadows of Lier at their feet. 

" Oh, what a pity this had not burst upon us after we had been 
through a dark tunnel ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck, as the train glided 
out of the lovely world, and issued a few moments afterward in a 
confined country. " It really is worth while to take the train back 
just to see that view." 

They did not take it back, however. They had the mild eager- 
ness of travelers to reach their destination ; and when they stepped 
from the railway-train into the station at Christiania, it seemed 
almost as if they were at home again. 

" At any rate," said Charles, who was the most homesick one of 
the party, " we are so much nearer New York." 

It was the first week in August, and when our travelers rose the 
next morning, they found warm, pleasant weather. It was a pleas- 
ure to get again into light summer clothes, after wearing heavy 
winter ones, as they had done ever since leaving Christiania for the 
north. It was as if they had gone out of one climate into another, 
had stayed a month, and then had come back to find the first just 



122 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

what they had left it. They spent two or three more days in town, 
shopping, buying photographs and little models of carioles and 
stolkjaeres, and knives such as all Norwegians, even Norwegian 
boys, appeared to carry in their belts, and at last, on Saturday 
afternoon, took the boat which was to carry them to Copenhagen. 

It was a pleasant afternoon, and the party sat on deck watching 
the receding city and the shores of the fjord. They were on one of 
the large and fast boats and touched only at Drobak and Horten, 
until they should come to Goteborg. 

" I should like to come back and spend a winter in Norway," said 
Mr. Van Wyck. "I don't think one can fairly know a place until 
one has lived in it during that part of the year which lasts longest, 
and the winter in Norway is longer than the summer." 

" Let us do it some time," said his wife. " You can study the 
Norwegian language and literature, and Sarah can go to school. 
Very few Americans go abroad to study in Christiania." 

" I wonder what I should learn in school which I could not learn 
at home," said Sarah. 

" I am afraid you would need to be Norwegian yourself to appre- 
ciate some of the studies," said her father. " There is something 
very interesting to me in the education of children in a country 
like Norway, which has a dim antiquity, whose modern history is 
not especially marked by great deeds, and whose present position is 
not a commanding one. There is a strong tendency to make much 
of the early, half-legendary history, and the children are all care- 
fully brought up on the old sagas. The stories form the beginning 
of their national history. They are told not exactly as veritable 
facts, nor again as mere myths." 

" They are given, I suppose, as ' they say,' " said Mr. Bodley. 



OVER THE F1LLEFJELD. 123 

" Exactly ; they have an imaginative form, and are allowed to 
take a place in the child's mind as part of the regular furniture of 
his education. Then they are identified with a patriotic spirit, and 
are clung to more tenaciously since they are not driven out by later 
and better attested historical facts, for these as a rule are not singu- 
larly worth preservation." 

" Then," said Mrs. Bodley, " the deeds of the heroes are con- 
nected with mountains and waterfalls, so that they have a romantic 
setting." 

" Yes, and they represent conflict with Swedes, Danes, and Scotch, 
and as these are all now superior in wealth and influence, there is 
some consolation in thinking that once Norway was their master. 
All this goes to feed the sentiment of nationality." 

" Yet how many Norwegians are leaving their country for Amer- 
ica," said Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" It is not strange," said her husband. " The great business 
of Norway has been its carrying-trade, and it has a large fleet of 
wooden ships, but the English with their iron steamers have come 
in and gotten possession of a large part of the business. The con- 
tinued improvements in machinery, by which less coal becomes 
necessary, tends to diminish the cost of freight by steamers, and 
merchants are ready to pay a little higher rates if they can know 
exactly when to expect their goods, which they can do with steam- 
ers, but not with sailing vessels. This has helped to make Norway 
poorer. Then, a few years ago, the government went crazy on the 
subject of railways, and undertook enterprises which private persons 
would have been slow to engage in. The consequence is a heavy 
debt. The administration is a costly one, also. There is a small 
population and a host of office-holders. Besides, the military laws 



124 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

withdraw the young men from their work in the most important 
part of the short season. Everybody is subject to drill, although the 
time required is less and less as the man grows older, until finally 
he is exempt. All these things serve to crowd people out of the 
country, and those who have already gone to America grow well- 
to-do fast, and send for their friends and relations." 

" Well," said Mr. Bodley, " I am sorry for Norway, but I am glad 
our country is receiving such sturdy, honest, and industrious people. 
By the way, who do you think lives at Frogner, that interesting 
manor-house which you remember we saw when we were in Chris- 
tiania the first time, and were on our way to Oscar's Hall ? " 

" Did you find out, father ? " asked Charles. 

" Yes, I had occasion to-day to call on the American consul, and 
he was the most hospitable of men. He said his wife would at once 
call on the ladies, and then we must come out to his home in Frog- 
ner. I told him we were just starting for Copenhagen, and could 
not, but I wish I had gone to see him earlier. I found we had some 
friends in common, and he said he had no doubt his wife, who was 
an American, would know you, Phippy, for she came from Cam- 
bridge." 

" What a pity ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. " I should like dearly to 
have seen the interior of a real Norwegian house." 

" He tolcl me of a curious incident which came to his notice as 
consul. One Fourth of July, when a fishing vessel was lying in 
Barnstable harbor, all the crew went ashore for a frolic, and when 
they came back the vessel was gone — stolen. No trace could be 
found of it, and the State Department at Washington sent circulars 
to its representatives in foreign ports, advising them to look out 
for it, and stating that it was supposed to have been stolen by some 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 125 

Swedes. About a week after the circular came, Consul Gade's 
brother, who lives in Bergen, heard that a strange vessel was in one 
of the fjords above Bergen, where it had unloaded a cargo of Amer- 
ican mackerel, and was sending it into Bergen by lighters. He at 
once looked into the matter, and, with his brother, secured the cap- 
ture of three Swedes, who, it turned out, had stolen the vessel in 
Barnstable harbor, painted out her name, run her, with scarcely any 
knowledge of navigation, to Iceland, where they had bartered some 
of her cargo and then brought her down to the Norwegian coast. 
The cargo and the ship were both subsequently sold for the benefit 
of the owner, and he got nearly the full value. Our government 
had some correspondence with the Norwegian government, but 
finally, as piracy could not technically be proved, they left the pris- 
oners in the hands of the courts here to treat as they would." 

"Well, the old vikings are not all dead," said Charles. "I sup- 
pose they were some descendants of Thorfinn, who were looking 
about Cape Cod to see if their ancestor left anything there about 
the year 1000, when he was last over." 

"Pooh!" said Sarah. "The old vikings fought for what they 
wanted. They did not sneak off with a mackerel schooner. But 
how surprised the captain and crew must have been when they came, 
back to the schooner and found her gone ! " 

" It served them right for leaving their vessel without a watch," 
said Mr. Bodley. 

" Sarah," said her father, " if you will go down to my state-room 
and bring me my portfolio, I will let these good people share our 
secret." 

" Have you been having a secret with Sarah, Uncle Philip ? " 
asked Charles. 



126 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

"To be sure I have ; it began one day when we were driving 
through Vestre Slidre." 

" That was where we saw the Christmas sheaves on the roof of 
the house, was n't it ? " 

" Why, Charles, you are burning. You are close upon the heels 
of our secret." 

" I 'm sure I can't get any nearer," said the boy. But as Sarah 
appeared with her father's portfolio, there was not time to guess 
anything more. 

" You remember that statue of Wergeland, do you not, in the 
Carl Johann Gade Park ? " 

"Yes." 

" Well, Wergeland wrote a pretty story in verse which turns on 
the peasant's custom, and I have been exercising myself in Norwe- 
gian by translating it. I think it will do very well as a leave-taking 
of Norway, for it will soon be too dark for us to see the shore any 
longer. I did not attempt to render the poem into verse — yes, I 
did, too," said the conscience-stricken man — "but I only tried a 
few lines, and then gave it up. I have made a sort of paraphrase." 
So Mr. Van Wyck read : — 

THE LITTLE BIRDS ON THE CHRISTMAS SHEAF. 

Green, green is the forest in the valley of Soloen, but the birds 
that used to sing in the trees are mute. The sigh of the poor peas- 
ant has made them dumb, and worse than this, the harsh bell of the 
sheriff has driven them away. You can hear the harsh jingle-jangle 
of that bell as far down the valley as the little village of Mo, yet 
last Christmas there were two little birds that met there and chat- 
tered to each other. 



OVER THE FILLEFJELD. 127 

" Come, pussy Finch, come with me ! come with me ! " cried one. 
" I know where there is a proper nice Christmas sheaf. There is a 
poor fellow who lives back of the woods, who has put up his sheaf 
this year the same as ever, for all he is on his last legs. He only 
had three sheaves to last him all winter, and one of these he has fas- 
tened to the pole for the birds. I call that generous. Yes, he did it 
for Jesus Christ's sake, he said. Now, you small Finch, why do you 
look at me in that fashion ? don't you believe me ? Come after me ; 
I 'm your cousin, the gray Sparrow. I call myself gray, though 
I 'm really yellow, for I 've been dressing for Christmas. That 
sheaf ! that sheaf ! it is perched on the peasant's roof, and we '11 
soon be in it. We '11 bury ourselves in that sheaf ! There 's a 
merry Christmas for the birds. We '11 fill our crops. The Christ- 
child was born for the birds as well as for men. Come ! come ! " 

So sang the lively little fellow, and his cousin flew off with him. 
They got safely by a Magpie that was teetering on a weathercock. A 
Cat looked up at them from a bridge where she sat. She looked 
sharp, and crouched, ready to spring when the chance came. But 
they were so hungry that at first they neither saw nor heard any- 
thing, but plunged, head-first, into the sheaf. They were so snugly 
hidden that only the very highest star could make them out in their 
secret place. There they stayed from Christmas eve to Christmas 
morn. The whole night was not too long for them. They were 
there when the bells rang for the people to go to church on Christ- 
mas Day. Then they flew off and lighted on the church spire, where 
a cock of gold was perched. They mounted the cock himself, and 
clung with their little claws to his comb, and away up there on that 
tip-top they looked up and saw the heavens full of angels. And 
they heard one of the angels say : — 



128 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Never forget, my children, to say Thank you after every 
meal." 

They looked at each other in dismay. True, true ! They had 
actually forgotten to say, Thank you ! 

"To think of it ! " said the Sparrow. " And there was the Magpie ! " 

" And the Cat ! " said the Finch. 

" We must go back and say Thank you." 

On the way back they met the poor farmer, crying bitterly. 

" What shall I do ! what shall I do ! " he was saying. " The sher- 
iff is coming on New Year's Day, and he will turn me out of 
doors." 

The little birds listened. Verily, this was hard, indeed ; and 
thereupon they lifted their little cry to God. 

" Oh, surely," they said to the poor farmer, " the good God will 
look down on you in your need, on you who gave us one of your 
three sheaves. 'T was for Jesus' sake you did it, and we are God's 
children, too, though we are so very small, Cousin Finch and I. He 
would not see one of us harmed. We just came back to say Thank 
you for the good feast you gave us. May God make the poor man's 
heart glad ! " 

Up flew the little birds again to the Christmas sheaf. As they 
peeped in, they set up a joyous cry. 

" A miracle ! a miracle ! Now let the sheriff come when he will. 
For every grain of corn here is a solid ducat, shining out of the 
straw this holy day. A thousand of them ! yes, a thousand and ten. 
Now good-by to all your trouble." 

The old Magpie on the roof croaked hoarsely : — 

" The fields of kindness bear golden sheaves. When the sheriff 
gets his gold, may it turn into acorns ! " 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 129 

" No, no, you wicked old Magpie ! Let it turn into corn, but the 
good peasant's corn turn into gold." 

And with that away flew the Sparrow and the Finch. 

" Don't you remember those children, father," said Sarah, " whom 
we saw at the Victoria, going up to their father after dinner and 
thanking him ? " 

"Yes, they were saying Tak for maden, just as the Angel bade 
the sparrow and finch remember to do." 

" We will introduce the custom into America," said Mrs. Bodley. 

" We '11 begin now," said Sarah, going up to her father. " ' Tak 
for maden,' papa. Thanks for the crumb of a story." 

" I 'm sorry it could n't have been in rhyme," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
" for Wergeland's little poem sounds very prettily in the Norwegian. 
I am afraid, though, that if I had attempted to give it in verse I 
should have found it less easy to get round some of the troublesome 
words which I could n't find in my dictionary ! " 



CHAPTER VIII. 

THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 



When our travelers came upon deck early the next morning, 
they found that the steamer was entering the harbor of Goteborg. 
Buoys with numbers were ranged along the course, affording hitch- 
ing-posts for vessels and steamers lying in the roadstead. It was 
between six o'clock and half after, and they were to have an hour 

9 



130 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

in port ; so, after a cup of coffee, our friends set out for a little 
walk. 

" We certainly must not lose the opportunity of visiting Sweden," 
said Mr. Bodley, " and this will be our only one." 

" Does it have anything to do with American history ? " asked 
Charles. " Did the vikings push off from the place ? " 

"No, but it was the port from which the Swedes sailed who set- 
tled on the Delaware in the seventeenth century. You see we 
can't get far away from America." 

Leaving the pier they came at once upon a broad canal, on either 
side of which ran a wide thoroughfare. Bridges crossed the canal 
now and then, and a little park edged the water. The buildings 
were shops and warehouses, and at last substantial hotels. A pretty 
park lay beyond the hotel ; but they left it and crossed to other 
canals. The city was the cleanest, brightest little place they had 
ever seen, and everywhere there was an air of thrift and comfort. 
The canals were cleaner than those they had seen when in Holland, 
and ran under bridges and buildings in the most alluring manner. 

" I should just like to take a boat and paddle about this city," 
said Charles. "Why! one could row everywhere." 

They saw a spirited statue of Gustavus Adolphus in one of the 
public squares; but it was too early to see many people in the 
streets. They went back to the steamer, which they reached just 
in time, and were off again for Copenhagen. It was a twelve hours' 
journey to the Danish city, and the day was a lovely one. As they 
came in full view of the city, the captain, who was near them, 
tapped Charles on the shoulder. 

" Did you never read the stories of H. C. Andersen ? " he asked. 

" Oh, yes," said Charles, " all of them." 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 131 

"Good. That is the villa Rolighed among the trees yonder, 
where he died. It belongs to the banker, Mr. Melchior." 

"Rolighed," said Mr. Van Wyck. "That must mean Resting- 
place." 

" Just so," said the captain. 

" Well, I am glad that it is one of the first things we have seen in 
Copenhagen," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " I confess I have no special 
associations with the city except those relating to Hans Andersen." 

" And Thorwaldsen," added her husband. 

" Yes, and Thorwaldsen." 

" I 've played Copenhagen," said Mr. Bodley, demurely. 

" Nathan, I 'm shocked ! " said his wife. " You have n't played it 
since you knew me ! " 

It was, indeed, the city of Andersen to all the party, and they 
were ready to discover the places with which they had become 
familiar through reading the story-teller's little stories. They went 
first, however, to their hotel, the Hotel d'Angleterre, upon one of 
the great squares of the city. All the buildings which they passed 
looked large and tall, and the city wore a more distinguished air 
than Christiania or Goteborg. The rooms which they occupied 
looked out upon the Royal Theatre, with its bronze statues of Hol- 
berg and Oehlenschlager, famous Danish dramatic authors. A 
horse-car track ran near by, and the children were amused with the 
double-decked horse-cars. They had seen before, at home, seats 
upon the roof of a horse-car, but each of these cars had a roof to 
the seats. It looked, as Sarah said, like a baby-house where one 
could see what was going on in the second story. There was an odd 
kind of an omnibus, also, very like a horse-car on small, low wheels, 
which seemed much in need of a track, and went over the pave- 
ment as if in search of one. 



132 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

The Hotel d'Angleterre had a court-yard with a high glass roof. 
Plants and flowers were growing freely under cover, and as the roof 
was very high, one might easily think one's self out-of-doors. The 
great dining-room extended along one side, while breakfast-rooms 
occupied another side, and there were tables in the court-yard for 
those who wished to take their meals alfresco. 

After a light tea, — for they had dined on the steamer, — our 
friends sallied forth. Mr. Van Wyck, who was a great admirer of 
Andersen, had taken pains to inform himself beforehand of the 
haunts of the story-teller. So he led them at once to a house near 
by in the King's New Market, where he said Andersen had his 
rooms the last part of his life. 

" Don't you remember his description of his quarters ? " he asked. 
"He had only two rooms, but they were sunny, adorned with pic- 
tures, books, and statues, and kept freshly decorated with flowers, 
which ladies were constantly sending him. The cafe he mentions as 
one of the largest and most frequented in town. A lawyer lived on 
the same floor, and a photographer on the story above. ' So you 
see,' he says, ' I cannot die away from a lawyer, and a photogra- 
pher is at hand to secure my picture for posterity.' " 

" But he did die away from a lawyer," said Mr. Bodley. 

" Yes, fortunately he was with friends at the last. One would 
not like to think of Andersen as dying without good friends about 
him ; he was so dependent on sympathy." 

" Do you know what I want to see ? " asked Mrs. Bodley. " You 
will laugh, it is so simple. I want to see East Street." 

" And why East Street, Blandina? " asked her husband. 

" Because the place occurs so frequently in Andersen's stories. I 
have come to think of it as the street of Copenhagen. Don't you 




HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 135 

remember how he speaks of it at the beginning of his story of e The 
Galoshes of Fortune ? ' " 

" I remember," said her brother. " I have often said the passage 
over to myself : ' Every author has some peculiarity in his descrip- 
tions or in his style of writing. Those who do not like him magnify 
it, shrug their shoulders, and exclaim, " There he is again ! " I, for 
my part, know very well how I can bring about this movement and 
this exclamation. It would happen immediately if I were to begin 
here, as I intended to do, with " Rome has its Corso, Naples its To- 
ledo." " Ah, that Andersen ! there he is again ! " they would cry. 
Yet I must, to please my fancy, continue quite quietly and add, 
" but Copenhagen has its East Street." ' " 

" I think Copenhagen must have changed since Andersen wrote," 
said Mrs. Bodley. " At any rate, East Street is not much of a show 
street." 

" No," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " I could almost imagine myself on 
Washington Street at home." 

" Phippy, Phippy ! " exclaimed her husband, " when will you 
learn to leave Boston alone, and call New York home ? " 

" Never ! " said the energetic little woman. " You may put one 
elevated road on top of another, and it will not give me any more 
of a home feeling about New York." 

" I should think not," said Mr. Bodley. " You know, Philip, we 
chose Second Avenue because we thought it least like New York." 

"I never would have gone there at all to live," said Mrs. Van 
Wyck, " if the elevated road had been invented then." 

Our friends rambled about the streets for some time, looking with 
interest for anything which might remind them of Andersen, as 
everything did in a more or less definite manner. 



136 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



"What is this?" said Mr. Van Wyck, suddenly stopping before 
the name of a street which crossed their way. " c Hyskenstrsede ? ' 
This must be the Small Houses Lane that figures in Andersen's 
story of ' The Old Bachelor's Night-Cap.' Don't you remember the 
street with no pavement, with holes into which folks tumbled, and 
the line of low booths in which the German merchants kept their 
wares : 

" To be sure ; but I see nothing of all that here/' said Mrs. Bod- 
ley. 

"No, nothing but the name remains. 
The street is only a commonplace 
thoroughfare with a block of high, flat- 
faced buildings on each side." 

" I should like to see Frederick's 
Hospital," said Sarah. 

" Why, what is there to be seen at 
a hospital?" asked Charles. 

" Oh, I don't want to go inside ; but 
if you will only take me past it, I can 
tell whether what I wish to see is there 




The Unhappy Volunteer. 



Still." 



Their rambles did in time bring them before the hospital, a plain, 
uninteresting-looking building, which stood back from the street. 

" I am quite content," said Sarah. " I wanted to see if the iron 
fence was still in front of the yard. Don't you remember how, in 
' The Galoshes of Fortune,' the volunteer tried to squeeze between 
the iron rails, and at first only got his head through, then had the 
good sense to wish himself free, and so got his whole body through ? 
You know the galoshes enabled him to have whatever he might 
wish for." 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 137 

" Well," said Charles, " if I were in that somewhat dismal place 
I certainly should put on the galoshes if they would take me out 
of it." 

It was not . till the next day that they visited Rosenborg Castle 
and Garden, to see the statue of Andersen which had been erected 
there. 

" What a charming place for his statue," said Mr. Van Wyck, as 
they came in sight of it and saw children playing with their nurses 
under its shadow. The garden was a shady spot, greatly resorted 
to by children. Long avenues, overarched by trees, led through 
it, and at one end, in a little plat of flowers, stood the statue. 
It was of bronze, and represented the story-teller seated, with a 
thin book held open by a finger of his left hand, while his right 
was stretched out with a gesture. 

" Hush ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. " He is going to tell a story." 

" That is exactly it," said her husband ; " and you know Andersen 
frequently did read his stories. He read them, or half-recited them, 
to circles of his friends and to working-men's clubs." 

" Yes, and don't you remember," said Charles, " that he used to 
read them beside the sick beds of some of his little friends ? I once 
saw a picture in a magazine which showed him doing this." 

" I wonder if he was fond of children," said Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" Why, Phippy ! what a question ! " said Mrs. Bodley. 

" I don't know," she replied. " I have met very estimable people 
who did not like children." 

" But Andersen ! it sounds almost profane." 

" Phippy is not far out of the way, Blandina," said her brother. 
" I have known people who liked to see children at play, to watch 
them, to study their minds even, and who felt a strong sympathy 



138 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

with them, yet did not caress them or care to have them for very 
near companions. I have heard something of this sort of Andersen. 
You know this statue was proposed in his life-time, and several 
sculptors competed for the work. One of them produced a pleasing 
design, which seemed to most people very appropriate. It repre- 
sented the great story-teller, with two children by his knee, while 
he told them stories. Andersen objected positively to this concep- 
tion, for he said he was not in the habit of taking children thus into 
his arms." 

" I am glad there is a stork on the pedestal," said Charles ; " there 
is always a stork in Andersen's stories." 

" There is the group of the ' Ugly Duckling,' too," said Sarah. 

Upon the face of the pedestal, encircled by a laurel wreath, were 
the dates of birth and death, "2 April 1805 — 4 August 1875." 
Upon the left side, over the bronze bas-relief of a child riding a 
stork, are the words, " Minde om Eventyr-digteren " (In Memory 
of the Wonder-Story Teller). Upon the opposite side, above the 
bronze swan and ducks, are the words, " Reist af det Danske folk, 
1880" (Erected by the Danish people, 1880). 

"What a pity Andersen did not live to see the statue ! " said Mr. 
Van Wyck. " He would have enjoyed walking here every day and 
looking at himself in enduring bronze." 

" Was he, then, so very conceited ? " asked Mr. Bodley. 

" No. That word gives a wrong impression about him. He was 
an over-grown child who wanted everybody to look at him when he 
was doing anything which pleased him. Have n't you seen children 
who were innocently egotistic ? ' See me throw this stone ! ' they 
say ; or, ' Look how nicely I can draw a horse.' That was the way 
with Andersen. In fact, I alwavs think of him as a man who has 




STATUE OF H. C. ANDERSEN. 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 141 

suffered an arrested development in certain of his feelings and in 
certain intellectual endowments. Somebody has called him the first 
child in literature." 

"He can't be said to have a handsome face," said Mrs. Van 
Wyck. 

" No, nor a graceful figure ; but the sculptor, by giving the face 
the glow of animation and making the figure eager and uncon- 
scious, has achieved a real success in a perfectly honest and truthful 
manner." 

Our friends rambled from Rosenborg Garden out to the cemetery, 
which lay upon the outskirt of the city, that they might find Ander- 
sen's grave. The cemetery had evidently been laid out from the 
necessity of providing burial, for which the several city church- 
yards were inadequate. At any rate, it was divided into sections 
which bore the names of the various parishes in the city. Ander- 
sen's parish was that of " Vor Frelser," or, Our Saviour. 

" How very neat everything is, and how free from ostentation," 
said Mrs. Bodley. 

" Yes," said her husband, " what a contrast there is to our vulgar 
display at home. I wonder whether it is the result of regulation 
and law, or of inherent good taste in the people. These tablets — 
how simple they all are ! and how well kept all the small family 
lots. It makes one ashamed when one thinks of Mount Auburn and 
Greenwood, and remembers how poor humanity tries even in death 
to appear a little better than his neighbor." 

"It isn't the dead, Uncle Nathan," said Sarah; "it's the living 
who make the fuss over the dead." 

" Well, the living were brought up by the dead. I think if the 
dead could put their own obituary notices in the paper, with their 



142 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

new knowledge, they would add to i Friends are kindly requested 
not to send flowers,' the words, ' Descendants are urgently asked 
not to put up a big monument.' " 

"I don't think the Danes are wholly free from pride," said Mrs. 
Bodley. " See how particular they are to put the titles of their 
dead friends on their stones. Etatsraad — what does that mean ? " 

" State-councillor," said her brother. " It is something like an 
Honorable, only a little more select. But look at this stone : ' Wine- 
merchant Pedersen ! ' " 

" When they have no titles, they put on their occupations to dis- 
tinguish them," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " Here is one to Musical-in- 
strument maker Frederik Richter." 

" And just look at this, Phippy," said her husband, laughing. 
" ' This monument is erected to the veteran chocolate manufacturer, 
Reimer Timotheus Kehlet.' " 

" Now I like that," said Mr. Bodley. " One really finds out some- 
thing about these people. How much better it is than to sing their 
praises. As soon as you see a list of virtues on a man's tombstone, 
you have an instinctive desire to get round on the other side of the 
stone, and see what his defects were. But to be told that a man 
was a veteran chocolate manufacturer, you see him at once in his 
white apron and paper cap, stirring the rich dark fluid in a narrow 
vessel." 

" But he probably did not boil chocolate and pour it out to his 
customers, Nathan," protested his sister. 

" Yes he did, in his early days. That was the way he laid the 
foundations of his fortune, and he never gave up the shop. Certain 
of his customers used to insist on old Kehlet making their chocolate 
for them. Oh, I see it all in my mind's eye." 



THE HOME OF ANDERSEN. 143 

By and by, in their wanderings they came to the grave of An- 
dersen. Like the rest, it was quiet and unobtrusive. A neat 
Scotch granite stone stood in a small inclosure, in which, also, roses 
bloomed ; there was ivy and a prickly thorn, and a border of box. 
On the stone was the inscription : — 

DIGTEREN 

HANS CHRISTIAN 
ANDERSEN 

F. 2 den April 1805 

D. 4 d0 August 1875. 
Den Sjsel Gud i sit Billede liar skabt 
Er uforkraenhelig kan ei gaae tabt 
Vort Jordliv ker er Evighe den's Fr0 
Vort Legem drier, men Sjselen kan ei dpe. 

(H. C. A.) 

" Well, Uncle Philip," said Charles, " you are the linguist of 
the party. What does it mean ? " 

" I can translate the first part on the spot," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
" but I shall have to get my dictionary out for the last. It is evi- 
dently a verse out of one of Andersen's poems. Of course, the words 
above are clear enough : ( The poet Hans Christian Andersen, born 
April 2d, 1805 ; died August 4th, 1875.' " 

" Why do they call him a poet, father ? I thought he wrote sto- 
ries." 

" He wrote several volumes of poems, Sarah, but that was not 
the reason why he was called poet. If he had written only the lit- 
tle wonder-stories, which you know, he would still have been called 
poet. The Germans and the Scandinavians have a more generous 
and liberal interpretation of the word. They apply it to any one 
who invents romances, whether they are in prose or verse." 



144 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" The word is nearer the Greek, then, than in our own use," said 
Mr. Bodley. " At least, the fundamental meaning of poet and poem 
in Greek is the maker or creator, and the thing made." 

" Don't you remember," said Mr. Van Wyck, " how Andersen 
himself, in the i Story of my Life,' refers to the matter, and com- 
plains that when he called himself a poet as another man might call 
himself a painter, he brought ridicule upon himself ? " 

" Well, I think our distinction is right, after all," said Mrs. Yan 
Wyck. " It may require us to be more discriminating in our lan- 
guage, and to say romancer where a Dane or a German w r ould say 
.poet ; but if we save the word poet for persons whose distinction is 
that they have written real poetry, I think we make the word more 
exclusive and more dignified." 

" But there are plenty of poor poets, Phippy," said her husband. 

" Well, call those verse-makers, then." 

"August 4th," said Charles, reading the words on the stone. 
" That was only a few days ago. What a pity we could not have 
been here then." 

" Somebody else was here," said Sarah, " and left that wreath at 
the foot of the stone." 

Yes, there lay a faded wreath, evidently left for a memorial by 
some friend; perhaps by one of those ladies who always kept fresh 
flowers in the vase on the poet's table. 

" I am afraid I am only a verse-maker," said Mr. Yan Wyck, that 
evening, as he produced his translation of the lines on Andersen's 
stone, " but I think I have hit the meaning," and he read the words : 

" The soul, which in God's own image is made, 
Was eternally born, — it never can fade; 
Eternity's seed in our life doth lie, — 
The body may fall, the soul cannot die." 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 145 

" I think that is better on a tomb-stone than a reference to choco- 
late-making," said Mrs. Bodley. 

" There 's a fitness in both, Blandina," said her husband. " Don't 
you see that the chocolate-maker might have had this thought, 
though he did not express it ? Andersen was a poet, and so a bit of 
his poetry is on his stone." 

" It would not have done," said Sarah, " to have put a chocolate- 
pot on Mr. Kehlet's stone." 



CHAPTER IX. 

KAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 



Oue travelers quite fell in love with Copenhagen, and yet it 
would be somewhat difficult to say in^'ust what the charm of the 
place consisted. They strolled through its streets and entered its 
shops, visited museums and picture-galleries, and took their ease in 
the Hotel d'Angleterre. 

" My only objection to the hotel is its name," said Mrs. Van Wyck. 
" Why cannot these people get along without borrowing French 
words ? " 

" Yes, just as your favorite Boston, my dear, has its Hotel Ven- 
dome." 

" I admit that shame at once, Philip. It is without excuse, and it 
does not make this case any better. They have plenty of heroes in 
Denmark, besides, from whom they could name hotels." 
10 



146 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



" Yes, they could name one from Nils Juel, whose statue we saw 
this morning." 

" Or from King Chris- 
tian. I have been hum- 
ming to myself all day 
the first line of Long- 
fellow's translation of 
the National Song, of 
Denmark, — 



' ' ' King Christian stood by the 
lofty mast.' " 

" Say it all, mother," 
said Sarah, " for it has 
something about our 
friend Nils Juel in it." 

So Mrs. Van Wyck, 
with something of the 




King Christian. 



ardor of the childish Phipp}| stood up and recited, 



KING CHRISTIAN. 

FROM THE DANISH OF JOHANNES EVALD. 

King Christian stood by the lofty mast 

In mist and smoke ; 
His sword was hammering so fast, 
Through Gothic helm and brain it passed ; 
Then sank each hostile hulk and mast, 

In mist and smoke. 
"Fly! " shouted they, "fly, he who can ! 
Who braves of Denmark's Christian 

The stroke?" 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 147 

Nils Juel gave heed to the tempest's roar, 

Now is the hour ! 
He hoisted his blood-red flag once more, 
And smote upon the foe full sore, 
And shouted loud, through the tempest's roar, 

" Now is the hour ! " 
"Fly!" shouted they, "for shelter fly; 
Of Denmark's Juel who can defy 

The power? " 

North Sea ! a glimpse of Wessel rent 

Thy murky sky ! 
Then champions to thine arms were sent; 
Terror and Death glared where he went ; 
From the waves was heard a wail, that rent 

Thy murky sky ! 
From Denmark, thunders Tordenskiol' , 
Let each to Heaven commend his soul, 

And fly ! 

Path of the Dane to fame and might ! 

Dark-rolling wave ! 
Receive thy friend, who, scorning flight, 
Goes to meet danger with despite, 
Proudly as thou the tempest's might, 

Dark-rolling wave ! 
And amid pleasures and alarms, 
And war and victory, be thine arms 

My grave ! 

" That is a spirited song ! " said Mr. Bodley. " I used to wish that 
I belonged to a little nation like Denmark. It must be so much 
easier to make one's patriotism cover a small territory, than to 
spread it over a vast area like the United States, where one cannot 
possibly know, even in the most cursory fashion, the people of the 
different parts of the country." 



148 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" What treason, Nathan ! " said his wife. 

" You would find the disadvantage, Nathan," said Mr. Van Wyck, 
" of having everything measured by a small standard. Give me a 
big country with its great variety of life. One can never lack for 
large interests upon which to expend his thought in America." 

" Oh, I am a proud American," said Mr. Bodley ; " but I have my 
moments when America is too big for my imagination." 

Our friends went one day to the Museum of Northern Antiquities. 
The Danes are justly proud of it, for it has grown rapidly from 
small beginnings until now it occupies a disused palace. Most of 
the old castles and palaces appeared to be put to the excellent use 
of holding museums and collections. The museum is arranged 
chronologically : one enters where examples of the older Stone Age 
are shown, and passes from one room to another, until he issues 
from the last apartment, which contains illustrations of the seven- 
teenth century, below which the collection does not extend. The 
greater and more important part is devoted to antiquities before 
1300. There was too much to see, and our friends walked past case 
after case of flint implements and primitive pottery. But in the 
fourth room, devoted to the Bronze Age, and containing chiefly the 
results of very extensive grave-searching, they stood fascinated be- 
fore the remains of two men lying in boxes under glass covers. 
One of these, a young man of seventeen or twenty, who had not 
yet, as the catalogue coolly remarked, cut his wisdom teeth, had 
long, black hair ; and the woolen covering, dug up with him, was 
drawn up to his nose. 

"He looks as if he were trying very hard to keep warm," said 
Sarah; " but just look at this other, with his woolen night-cap on, 
lying calmly beneath his blanket." 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 149 

" Just think of it ! " said Charles. " The catalogue says they 
have been dead two thousand years, and here they are dug up to be 
stared at by all these people who are filing by ! I think they might 
have been left in peace." 

" They do not appear much disturbed," said Sarah. 

In other rooms were many illustrations of religious art and ser- 
vice. There was one quaint application of native life in a church 
chandelier made of a pair of stag's horns. There was a picture of 
John the Baptist, in which the martyr holds his head obligingly 
near a brass platter, and the executioner holds a big butcher knife 
in both hands, ready to let it fall. 

" I must say," said Mrs. Bodley, " I am glad to see most of these 
relics in a museum, rather than in a church, and to think that peo- 
ple can study them as part of the history of their ancestors, and not 
use them in their own worship." 

" Yes," added her husband, " they seem as little suited to daily 
use as the stone hatchets and spear-heads that we have been looking 
at." 

There were not many buildings in Copenhagen which called for 
special attention. The Exchange was a picturesque, red - brick 
building of the Dutch Renaissance style, surmounted by a twisted 
dragon spire ; and one of the churches had a curious spiral staircase 
winding outside of the spire. Inside of this church the great organ 
rested on the backs of two carved wooden elephants. In another 
church which had a square interior, there were very few seats on 
the floor ; but on each of the three sides were three galleries, with 
curtains before them, so that if the congregation chose, it could 
draw its curtains and go to sleep while the minister prosed in the 
pulpit on the fourth side. One of the churches — Trinity Church — 



150 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

had a round tower connected with it. Once this tower was used as 
an observatory. 

" Perhaps/' said Mr. Bodley, " Tycho Brahe, whose statue we 
saw, used to take a squint at the stars from its top. At any rate 
we '11 go up before we are statues and look down and off. When 
can we go, Philip ? You keep the run of the sights." 

" Between twelve and one," said that gentleman ; and as it was 
then twelve, they all set off for the Bound Tower. It stood before 
them, in full view as they looked up one of the thoroughfares, — a 
gigantic cylinder, with a small round house on the top, and quite 
devoid of any architectural beauty and ornament. The peculiarity 
of ascent was in the absence of any staircase. A broad, paved road- 
way wound up the tower, going round and round a central pillar, as 
a staircase might wind. The road was about twelve feet wide, and 
the people going up took the inner circle, while those coming down 
took the outer. 

" I really believe," said Charles, " that one might drive to the 
top." 

" To be sure," said his uncle. " Emperors and kings and queens 
and such people have amused themselves by driving up to the top. 
You see the grade is not so steep as that of many hills." 

" I don't see what they would do if they met a carriage coming 
down ! " 

" Just as if," said Sarah, " one emperor would be driving up when 
another was driving down ! " 

Near the top the road ended, and one could not actually drive to 
the tip-top. There was a flight of broad stone steps, and then a nar- 
row strip, and one stood outside upon a broad lookout surrounded 
by a railing. There were thirty or forty other people with them. 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 151 

They looked off in every direction, recognizing buildings which they 
had visited; but the sky was not clear, and they could not see 
much beyond the confines of the city. They trotted down the 
pavement again, children racing past them. The walls, especially 
near the top, were scrawled over with names and dates. Rossini's 
was there in particularly bold letters. 

" How queer one's legs feel," said Charles, " after trotting down a 
tall tower. I wonder if Tycho Brahe did n't sit down when he got 
to the bottom." 

In their walk this day they passed again the present astronomical 
observatory, with the statue outside of Tycho Brahe. The boule- 
vard, along which they walked, was the site of the old wall and moat 
which in ancient days surrounded the city. It made a singular 
dividing line, for upon one side were the old houses of the old town, 
upon the other side, facing them, the new houses of the brisker, 
newer, more Paris-like portion. 

" How Paris does set the fashion in cities," said Mrs. Van Wyck. 
" Everywhere, here in the north, in Christiania and Copenhagen 
and in other places where we have been, modern French ideas of 
architecture appear to prevail. I hope the people won't tear down 
all their old buildings to make room for French flats." 

It was in the evening of this day that they visited Tivoli. Tivoli 
is a summer-garden to which all Copenhagen resorts, and it was 
easy to find the way by following the crowd. It was a children's 
day, and especial provision had been made for their entertainment. 
Jugglers and strong men went through their feats. The man was 
there who could lift a cannon and hold it when it was fired off, 
and could take two iron bars on his shoulders, hold a man astride 
of his neck, and then when two other men hung upon the ends of 



152 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

the bars, could swing them round till their legs almost flew out hori- 
zontally. There were whirligigs, where, to the sound of music, 
children were riding with smiling faces upon horses which always 
pursued and never caught each other, or driving in chariots at- 
tached to equally swift steeds. Tyrolese, with exaggerated cos- 
tumes, were singing jodels in a balcony ; while the audience below 
sipped coffee and chocolate. There was a theatre in the open air. 
The stage only was under cover, and there were no seats before it, 
but the people stood upon a gentle slope. The drop scene was a 
great peacock's tail. The peacock faced the audience, and his tail 
covered the front of the stage. At a signal the tail divided in the 
middle, and fell aside, while the peacock descended into a trap, and 
a curtain rolled up, showing an interior. Two concerts were always 
in full blast in different parts of the garden, and everywhere were 
little cafes crowded with people drinking coffee or beer or choco- 
late. 

" What in the world is this j)lace ? " exclaimed Charles, as they 
came to a great structure of boards, and heard a thunderous noise 
in it or on it. The building was perhaps a hundred and eighty feet 
in length. At each end were two towers, side by side, one perhaps 
forty, the other twenty-five feet in height, and they alternated at 
the two ends. That is, a tall tower stood opposite a short tower at 
the further end of the building, while a wave line connected the two. 

66 Do let 's go up," said Sarah, and the whole party, filled with 
curiosity, climbed the staircase in one of the tall towers, up which 
other people were going. They learned from a notice that this was 
a Rutschban. 

"A rutschban?" said Mr. Van Wyck. "From the name and 
from the looks of the thing, it must be a Rush-railway." 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 



15S 



They were in a small room, crowded with people, and they could 
look down the railway track. At the entrance stood a car on four 
small iron wheels, the car being very stout and holding two people, 
with plenty of room to spare. It stood upon rails, or rather its 
wheels were in grooves, and the course extended down the slope, 
marked by the wave lines which they had seen at the top of the 




The Rutschban. 



building, terminating in a rise at the opposite lower tower. Two 
people would get into the car, and a leathern boot would be buttoned 
over them. The car would be started down the incline by the attend- 
ant, and away it would go down the first slope, and by its impetus 
rise to the next height, go over and down and up again, at each rise 
pitching a little lower, until the last slope, when it rushed up the 
hill, bumped against a buffer, and the two travelers got out. The 



154 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

car would then be seized, dragged aside, put upon a lift, hauled up 
to the higher tower at the side, and sent back with other passengers, 
or else empty, down a corresponding road terminating in a similar 
low tower by the side of the one from which it first started. Here 
it would be hoisted again into place, ready for a new round trip. 

" Phippy," said Mrs. Bodley, " how can people dare to go 
down that dreadful road ? Just look at them ! " 

" Yes, just look at them," said Mrs. Van Wyck. " That gentle- 
man getting in looks like a bank president ; and there are a couple 
of lovers." For as fast as one car had rushed up the final slope, an- 
other was started down the first incline. The two people in a car 
would hold each other in. They almost lost their hats ; they bowed 
and fell back upon the huge " thank you-ma'ams," as Sarah called 
them ; they looked frightened, and they looked bold ; they smiled, 
and they almost cried. 

" No one seems to scream," said Mr. Bodley, " or else there is such 
a noise that we don't hear them. Come, Blandina, want a coast ? " 

" Would you, oh would you, Nathan ? " 

6i Certainly, hop in." 

" Phippy, you go first, and tell us how it feels," said the timid 
Mrs. Bodley. 

" No, no," said Mr. Van Wyck, " that is n't fair. I '11 tell you 
what: we will all go in three successive cars, and wait for each 
other at the foot of the further tower. Sarah, you get in one with 
me. Charles, do you go with your Aunt Phippy ; and Nathan, you 
can follow with Blandina. Will you do it ? " 

They all nodded, and Mr. Van Wyck and Sarah boldly got into 
the first car which stood ready. They paid their fare, about two 
and a half cents apiece, and Mr. Van Wyck, with one arm about 



RAMBLES IN COPENHAGEN. 155 

Sarah, jammed his hat down over his brow, turned and smiled frig- 
idly as they started, then turned quickly and looked straight ahead 
as they thundered down the slope. 

" Is n't it awful ? " gasped Sarah. She felt that thrilling sensation 
in the pit of her stomach which one has in a swing when descend- 
ing, and then they shot up the slope, but oh ! they went down an- 
other, and she was sure her hair stood on end, if it ever did, as she 
saw the abyss before her. There was no stopping ; a moment's 
delicious reprieve came at the summit of each rise, but it was fol- 
lowed by a headlong plunge, and finally, with one wild rush, the car 
flew up the last incline. Sarah and her father staggered down the 
staircase of the tower. They had intended to watch the others come, 
but they forgot their intention ; they had an uneasy longing to get 
their feet on terra firma. In a few moments they were joined by 
the others, and they all looked as if they had lost their wits. 

" Well ! " said Mrs. Boclley, and she could say nothing more, 

" It is an awful joy ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. 

"It is simply fiendish," said Sarah. 

" Come, come," said Mr. Bodley. " I w 7 ould n't have missed it for 
anything." 

" And I would n't go through it again for anything," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. 

" How did you like it, Charles ? " asked his mother. 

" I 'd like to try it again," said that youth. 

" Charles ! " said Sarah, " do you want to look any whiter ? " 

The Rutschban was such a climax that they were all willing to 
saunter toward the gate and make their way toward the hotel. 

" How thoroughly," said Mr. Bodley, " all the people seemed to 
be enjoying themselves." 



156 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Yes/' said his wife, " and how decorous they were, and how 
heartily they applauded all the music and all the acting. The Danes 
must be a very sociable people." 

" I am afraid we could not have anything of the kind in New 
York," said Mrs. Van Wyck ; " and yet there are Gardens there, 
and I suppose just such entertainments." 

" Has it occurred to you, Phippy," said her husband, " that we 
were the only foreigners at Tivoli ? Think of living in a city like 
Copenhagen, where all the people are of your own race and kin ! 
If there are lower classes, they are not foreigners; they are not 
separated from you by that difference." 

" Philip is right," said Mr. Bodley. " The Danes are very demo- 
cratic in their amusements, and there are, I am told, absolutely no 
places which have a class distinction. At Tivoli we have seen the 
richest and gentlest beside the poorest and humblest. Any one who 
can pay a few ore can go inside, and everybody goes. It all turns 
on this in my mind : that there is no foreign population to speak of 
in Copenhagen, and especially that the poorest are still Danes, as 
their fathers were before them." 

" Yes, it will be a long time before our new and old Americans 
will have to find distinctions by going back to their ancestors. 
There are no longer Dutch and English in New York. One day 
there will not be Americans and Germans and Irish, for we can't 
help continuing to call these new-comers, no matter how good Amer- 
icans they mean to be, by the names they brought with them." 

" For my part," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " I think we shall be all 
Americans when we play together, and not when we vote together." 

" Wise Phippy ! " said her husband. " You are talking almost in 
epigrams ! " 




THORWALDSEN, THE SCULPTOR. 



BERT EL THORWALDSEN. 159 

CHAPTER X. 

BERTEL THORWALDSEN. 

" How many people in Copenhagen have their names ending in 
sen" said Charles one day. " I looked at the shop-signs this morn- 
ing, and it seemed as though every other one was Andersen or 01- 
sen or Pedersen or Hansen, or some other sen." 

" Don't you remember Andersen's little story," said his mother, 
" called ' Children's Prattle ' ? There was a large children's party, 
and one of the little girls said that people whose names ended in sen 
were nobodies, whereupon another little girl whose father's name 
was Madsen became very angry, and a poor boy who had been turn- 
ing the spit for the cook and overheard the talk, grew very sorrow- 
ful, for his name ended in sen. By and by, Andersen says, all 
these children had grown up, and the little boy whose name ended 
in sen was the most famous of all of them, for he was Thorwaldsen, 
the great sculptor." 

"I wonder," said Mr. Van "Wyck, "if Andersen did not get that 
story from Thorwaldsen. They were good friends, you know. 
There is another of his stories in which Thorwaldsen figures, — the 
story of ' Holger the Dane.' An old grandfather, a ship-carver, tells 
his grandson about the mythic Holger, who sleeps in the crypt of 
Kronborg Castle, clad in iron and steel, his head bowed on his arm, 
while his hair has grown to the marble table on which he rests. 
Every Christmas Eve an angel comes and tells him that his dreams 
of a happy Denmark are true, and that he may sleep on in quiet ; 
but when Denmark is in real danger, Holger will rouse himself, and 



160 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



strike a blow for freedom. So the old grandfather falls into a 
reverie and tells his little boy of famous Danes who have been 
great on land and sea, and the last whom he names is Bertel Thor- 
waldsen, the son of a figure-head carver, like himself." 

" I remember 
also," said Mr. 
Bodley, " how An- 
dersen, in his au- 
tobiography, tells 
of Thofwaldsen 
clapping him on 
the shoulder in 
the twilight, when 
they were stay- 
ing at a friend's 

The Old Ship-Carver and his Grandson. VlOUSP flTld SHVITIO" 

* Are not we little folks to have a story to-night ? ' " 

It was after this chat that our friends went to visit Our Lady's 
Church, where was a series of statues by Thorwaldsen. The church 
is one of great simplicity and bareness, but built with a massiveness 
which gives it a certain dignity. It has one long, broad, and high 
nave, surmounted by a barrel vault, marked off in blue squares. 
Galleries also run round the church ; and above the gallery, as one 
enters at the west door, is a large organ reaching to the ceiling. 
The effect of the interior is greatly increased by the arrangement of 
Thorwaldsen's statues, which constitute the attraction of the church. 
In the apse, as an altar-piece, is the Christ. The Twelve Apostles, 
St. Paul taking the place of Judas, are arranged, six on a side, down 
the church ; and, above the Christ, in the semicircular apse, is a bas- 




BERTEL THORWALDSEN. 161 

relief cornice representing the procession to Calvary, the figures full 
of life and boldness. 

"Haven't I seen that statue of the Saviour before ?" asked Sa- 
rah, as they stood in front of it. 

" To be sure," said her father. " We have seen it several times 
in copies in Norway and Denmark, and I believe it is common in 
Sweden also. It has taken its place as the Scandinavian represen- 
tation of the Saviour. It is a distinct embodiment of the Lutheran 
or Protestant conception." 

" Yes," said Mrs. Bodley, eagerly, " it is the Friend instead of the 
Sufferer." 

The figure stands with head slightly bowed, the hands extended, 
not in pain as on the cross, but in invitation and in benediction. 

" It is not so much Thorwaldsen's idea of the Christ," said Mr. 
Van Wyck, " as it is his record of a conception common to multi- 
tudes of minds impregnated by Protestant teaching. It does not 
suggest physical suffering, nor emotion altogether, but it is largely 
intellectual. He is addressing the minds as well as the hearts of 
men." 

" After all," interrupted Mr. Bodley, " Thorwaldsen brought his 
love of Greek art into this conception. This is a Greek statue. It 
is perfectly balanced. See how the hands answer to each other ; 
notice the parted hair, the divided beard, the unfailing regularity of 
features and form." 

They lingered longest before the central figure, and they looked 

also at the font which was formed by a kneeling angel in marble, 

holding out a sea-shell. The apostles were distinguished by their 

characteristics or by the symbols of their life. 

"How quickly," said Mrs. Van Wyck, "one runs out of one's 
11 



162 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

special knowledge of the apostles, and has to know them by some 
label. Here is the rugged Peter, now. No one would hesitate over 
him ; and the eloquent Paul." 

" And here is the doubting Thomas, with his chin resting on his 
hand," said Mrs. Bodley, " and the seraphic John." 

" But you would hardly know the others," said Mrs. Van Wyck, 
" if they did not have something in the nature of labels, like An- 
drew with his particular kind of cross, and James with his pilgrim 
staff: and hat, Simon Zelotes with his saw, and Thaddeus with his 
axe." 

" That is hardly our fault. The Bible does not give us much help 
in individualizing them." 

" I don't think Thorwaldsen troubled himself to look farther than 
for the conventional type," said Mr. Van Wyck. " A man who had 
brooded over the New Testament and made it part of his deepest 
life would not have been satisfied with such external representations. 
Don't you remember the figures of apostles and prophets by Shields 
in the windows at Eaton Hall, near Chester, in England ? There 
was work of a different sort." 

From Our Lady's Church our friends thought they would go to 
the Thorwaldsen Museum, and so make a Thorwaldsen day of it. 
They had frequently passed the museum before, and had stopped to 
spell out the fading frescoes upon the outside, but had not as yet 
entered it. The building was erected by the city to receive the col- 
lection of his own works and of those of other artists belonging to 
him, which Thorwaldsen had bequeathed to the city. Here, also, 
the remains of Thorwaldsen had been brought for burial. 

" You see," said Mr. Van Wyck, " the building is a tomb as well 
as art- gallery, and that accounts for its somewhat gloomy and for- 
bidding look." 



BERTEL THORWALDSEN. 



163 



" It reminds me of the Tombs in New York," said Mr. Bodley. 

" How queer these pictures on the walls are," said Charles. 
" Here are men lowering Thorwaldsen's marbles from the ship, and 
here is the way people are receiving the statues." In fact the fres- 
coes, which ran about the outside of the building at the height of 
one's head, contained a history of Thorwaldsen's triumphant recep- 
tion by the city. 

Our friends entered the build- 
ing and found that there was an 
open court in the centre, about 
which were halls and corridors 
filled with Thorwaldsen's works 
in marble or in plaster, and also 
in sketches for sculpture. They 
walked at first all through the 
rooms just to get a preliminary 
notion of the contents. 

" What an astounding fertil- 
ity he had," exclaimed Mr. Bod- 
ley. 

" Yes, but do you not notice," 
said Mr. Van Wyck, " how the same subjects recur again and again, 
sometimes in plaster, sometimes in marble ? I wish they had grouped 
the works differently. If they had gathered, for instance, into one 
room all the copies they have here of his treatment of Amor and 
Psyche, it would have been very interesting." 

" I think the loveliest thing here," said his wife, " is this group of 
Amor and Psyche united in heaven. How exquisitely tender and 
fine ! " 




Thforwaldsen in his old age. 



164 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" And you must have noticed his series of Amor's dominion over 
the world. In heaven he is on Jupiter's eagle with a thunderbolt ; 
on earth he is the lion-tamer with Hercules' club ; on the sea he is 
borne by a dolphin with the trident of Neptune ; and in Hades he is 
the tamer of Cerberus. By the bye, Charles, who was Amor, of 
whom Thorwaldsen is so fond ? " 

" Why, Love, I suppose." 

"Just so. Thorwaldsen fell in love with the classic fable, and de- 
lighted in repeating it in all manner of forms. He had not much 
originality, but he had an exquisite sense of beauty, and he was 
quite satisfied to do over and over again the old Greek fancies." 

" I will tell you what I was most interested in," said Sarah. " It 
was to see the originals of Night and Day. I have seen plaster 
casts of those works ever since I can remember." 

"Yes, I suppose they hang over thousands of bedsteads in the 
United States," said her Uncle Nathan, philosophically ; " simply 
thousands." 

" How graceful his work is," said Mrs. Bodley. " His dancing 
girls really do dance." 

" There is little that is not suggested by Greek art and story," 
said Mr. Van Wyck, " except the portrait statues, but here is a curi- 
ous illustration of the story of Adam and Eve." 

These two persons are represented as seated together while Adam 
holds Abel on his knee. An altar fire burns near. Abel holds an 
apple in his uplifted hand, and Cain, who is on the ground, spurns 
another apple with his foot, while he is eager to get Abel's away 
from him. The serpent looks on complacently." 

" Odd, is n't it?" said Mrs. Van Wyck. " It looks as if Thorwald- 
sen tried to produce in marble the opposite of a Holy Family." 



o 



c 

U5 




BERTEL THORWALDSEN. 167 

After they had looked until they were tired at the white statues 
and other pieces of sculpture they entered the courtyard, decorated 
in Pompeian style, and looked at the grave of Thorwaldsen, cov- 
ered with roses and evergreen. 

" What a fine resting-place ! " said Mr. Van Wyck ; " and what a 
noble monument to raise over one's grave. I really do not think of 
another sepulchre so fine. Think of an artist buried thus in the 
midst of his works ! " 

" It would be like Cousin Ned buried in a library," remarked 
Charles, gravely. 

" But it would have to be a library composed entirely of his own 
writings," said his cousin. 

" Well, if he published ten books, as he says he is going to, and 
each book sold ten thousand copies, and all the copies were collected 
into one building " — 

" Come away," said Sarah, impatiently. " Charles is losing his 
head. Whoever heard of an author buying back all his books after 
he had sold them ! " 

" See ! " said Mrs. Bodley, " from where we are we can see into 
the hall where the copies of Christ and the Twelve Apostles are." 
They could get just a glimpse of the majestic figures, and it was a 
pleasant last sight as they turned away. 

Before they returned to their hotel our friends made a call upon 
the establishment of the Widow Ipsen, to see the terra cotta for 
which the house is famous. Here were many reproductions of Thor- 
waldsen's work in miniature, but they found themselves looking 
with most interest upon some little figures of the Sandman with his 
umbrella, and the little Match-Girl. 

" After all," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " how we come back to Ander- 



168 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

sen ! This little Sandman is a droll figure, but we should not think 
much of it did it not at once recall to us Andersen's story of ' Ole 
Luck Oie.' I really must get it." 

"Well, Phippy, if you will get a Sandman, I will get a little 
Match-Girl," said Mrs. Bodley. 

" I have no doubt you can get them in half-a-dozen places in New 
York," said Mr. Bodley. 

" Yes, but that is different from getting them in one place in Co- 
penhagen, in Andersen's city." 

They went, also, to the Royal Porcelain Works, and brought away 
a plaque with Andersen's profile on it, looking for all the world like 
Lord Beaconsfield, Mr. Bodley said. 

" This is really a pious pilgrimage," said his sister. " We haven't 
actually made any discoveries about Andersen ; but I can't help 
thinking we owe something to the excellent man ; and I have n't 
the remotest notion how else to pay the debt, except by walking 
about in the streets where he walked." 

" But all this lingering in his haunts does help to make his stories 
real," said Mr. Van Wyck. " It is like one's visit to London after 
reading Dickens's stories. One may then go home and read them 
all over again with new zest." 

" It is more like going to Salem to make sure of Hawthorne," 
said Mrs. Bodley ; " for Dickens's London is a more real place than 
the actual London." 

" Or like going to Acadia to hunt for the footsteps of Evange- 
line," said Mr. Bodley. " For my part, I don't think it is Ander- 
sen's characters that we look for in Copenhagen, but Andersen him- 
self." 

" It is a wonder to me," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " that the poets 



BERT EL THORWALDSEN. 169 

and historians have not made more of Denmark than they have. I 
don't mean, of course, Danish poets and historians, but English and 
Americans. They are really near cousins to us." 

" Did n't Shakespeare write ' Hamlet ? ' " asked Sarah. 

" Yes, but there is as much Denmark in the drama as there is 
Italy in ' Two Gentlemen of Verona.' " 

"Individual Danes have been very important," said Mr. Bodley ; 
" but Denmark itself has not* played a very significant part in the 
drama of history. I suppose that is the reason why Motley chose 
Holland, and no one seems to have chosen Denmark. Yet the 
Danes are really much more interesting than the Dutch." 

" Longfellow has not forgotten Denmark," said Mr. Van Wyck. 
" He evidently brought away pleasant associations with Danish life, 
to judge from his poem, ' To an Old Danish Song-Book.' " 




" Now begin, father." said Sarah. " Listen, all ; father has put 
down his eye-glasses. It 's a sure sign of a lecture or a poem." 

" I 've a good mind to give you a private lecture, Sarah, upon re- 
spect to parents." 

" Oh, my dear father, I more than respect you, — I love you." 

" Well, for that astounding declaration you shall be rewarded by 
hearing the poem." 



170 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



TO AN OLD DANISH SONG-BOOK. 

Welcome, my old friend, 

Welcome to a foreign fireside, 

While the sullen gales of autumn 

Shake the windows. 

I 

The ungrateful world 
Has, it seems, dealt harshly with thee, 
Since, beneath the skies of Denmark, 
First I met thee. 

There are marks of age, 
There are thumb-marks on thy margin, 
Made by hands that clasped thee rudely, 
At the alehouse. 

Soiled and dull thou art ; 
Yellow are thy time-worn pages, 
As the russet, rain-molested 
Leaves of autumn. 

Thou art stained with wine 
Scattered from hilarious goblets, 
As the leaves with the libations 
Of Olympus. 

Yet dost thou recall 
Days departed, half-forgotten, 
When in dreamy youth I wandered 
By the Baltic, — 

When I paused to hear 
The old ballad of King Christian 
Shouted from suburban taverns 
In the twilight. 



BE R TEL THORWALDSEN. 171 

Thou recallest bards, 

Who, in solitary chambers, 

And with hearts by passion wasted, 

Wrote thy pages. 

Thou recallest homes 
Where thy songs of love and friendship 
Made the gloomy Northern winter 
Bright as summer. 

Once some ancient Skald, 
In his bleak, ancestral Iceland, 
Chanted staves of these old ballads 
To the Vikings. 

Once in Elsinore, 
At the court of old King Hamlet, 
Yorick and his boon companions 
Sang these ditties. 

Once Prince Frederick's Guard 
Sang them in their smoky barracks ; — 
Suddenly the English cannon 
Joined the chorus! 

Peasants in the field, 
Sailors on the roaring ocean, 
Students, tradesmen, pale mechanics, 
All have sung them. 

Thou hast been their friend; 
They, alas! have left thee friendless! 
Yet at least by one warm fireside 
Art thou welcome. 

And, as swallows build 
In these wide, old-fashioned chimneys, 
So thy twittering songs shall nestle 
In my bosom, — 



172 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



Quiet, close, and warm, 
Sheltered from all molestation, 
And recalling by their voices 
Youth and travel. 



" What a pity that we could not carry away from Copenhagen 
something which would bring back as many memories," exclaimed 
Mrs. Bociley. 

" There is your Sandman with his umbrella," said Mrs. Van 

Wyck. " Does n't Andersen make him a 
delightful story - teller ? I fancy that 
when you catch sight of him on your shelf 
at home there will be an instantaneous 
recollection of ever so many Copenhagen 
scenes. The only thing wanting will be 
your power to make a poem in words." 

" How constantly Longfellow recurs to 
the north in his poetry," said Mr. Van 
Wyck. " He seems to have far more kin- 
ship with it than with the south." 

" It is the attraction of opposites, I 
think," said Mr. Bociley, " as I believe I have said before. Not that 
Longfellow has much of a torrid zone in him, but his gentleness lays 
hold of the ruggedness and fierceness of the north, and then by a 
natural association anything connected with Scandinavia interests 
him." 

" Well, I am sorry to leave Copenhagen," sighed Mrs. Bodley, 
who was moving about the room, putting up various articles. 

"When weren't you sorry to leave a place, mother?" asked 
Charles. 




The Sandman. 



ANDERSEN'S BIRTHPLACE. 173 

" But Copenhagen is such a home-like spot," she argued, u and I 
am used to it now." 

"I am glad for my part," said Sarah energetically, "that we are 
bound homeward. I am almost reluctant to go to Odense, since it 
seems like turning our steps backward." 

"Yet go to Odense we must," said Mrs. Van Wyck. "We are 
on an Andersen pilgrimage. If we have seen his burial-place we 
certainly must see his birthplace." 



CHAPTER XI. 

Andersen's birthplace. 



It was an early start which our friends made for Odense, for they 
had limited themselves to a single day, meaning to take the town 
on their way out of Denmark. They did not need to return to 
Copenhagen ; they would go on their way as far as Korsor, and then, 
leaving their baggage, take a flying trip across the Great Belt to 
Odense and back, in time to take the night boat from Korsor to 
Kiel. 

" All along the way we ought to see traces of Andersen," said Mr. 
Van Wyck ; " for he came from Odense to Copenhagen when he 
was a boy." 

" But not by rail," said his wife. 

" No, he traveled with the driver of a post-carriage who was re- 
turning from Odense to Copenhagen." 



174 



THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



" Look ! " said Sarah, suddenly. " I have seen the first memorial 
of Andersen," and she pointed to five storks which were perched 
upon the roof of a barn past which the train was whizzing. 

" Well done, Sarah," said her father. " I have been looking for a 
stork on a roof ever since we came to Denmark, and here you have 
seen five all at once." 

They reached 
Roeskilde in less 
than an hour, 
and caught a 
glimpse of the 
cathedral in 
which Den- 
mark's kings 
are buried; 
they passed 
Soro, a pretty, 
wooded place 

by a lake, where the Danish author Ingemann had lived ; and they 
came to Slagelse. 

" Here is where Andersen was sent to school by Collin, his Copen- 
hagen friend," said Mr. Van Wyck. " You remember he went up 
to Copenhagen to seek his fortune, and after two years of varying 
experience fell in with Mr. Collin, who befriended him. Andersen, 
with his childish ignorance, thought he could at once make a place 
for himself in the theatre, and he was ready for anything, to sing or 
play or to write a play. The rich people to whom he went amused 
themselves for a while with the odd little fellow ; but Collin took a 
more substantial interest in him, saw that he had genius, but no 
training, and so sent him to school." 




The Memorial Storks. 



ANDERSEN'S BIRTHPLACE. 175 

" And he went to school here in Slagelse ? " 

" Yes, and it must have been a lively place. He says that when 
he arrived late in the evening at the inn, he asked the landlady if 
there was anything remarkable in town, and she replied, ' Yes, a 
new English fire-engine and Pastor Bastholm's library.' " 

" We won't stop for those celebrities," said Mr. Bodley. 

" No ; if we stopped at all, I should want to go to the top of a 
hill near Slagelse, where there stands or stood a cross of St. Anders, 
and where Andersen used to go and gaze across the Belt to Fiinen 
and think of home and dream of being a poet. I think the home- 
sickness of men of genius has not received sufficient attention." 

At last the train stopped at Korsor, and here our friends depos- 
ited their baggage and took the steamboat which was to carry them 
across the Great Belt, a distance of eight or ten miles. Half way 
across was an island, Sprogo, with a light-house upon it; on the 
other side of the Great Belt was Nyborg. Here they took another 
train, and just at noon entered Odense. 

" I suspect there is not much to see here," said Mr. Bodley, " and 
I, for one, am ready for a stroll. Of course we must see Andersen's 
house, and if he has celebrated anything, why, Philip, we depend 
upon you for pointing it out." 

" We shall not see the house where Andersen was born," said Mr. 
Van Wyck. " That was pulled clown some time ago, to make room 
for a fine building ; but they have kept the house where he spent 
his childhood. You remember " — 

" Now, Philip, that is very polite of you. I notice you always be- 
gin your little lectures on Andersen in that way. For my part I 
don't remember, and you may tell me anything you like as a new 
fact." 



176 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Very well, then. Hans Christian Andersen " — 

" Stop, father," said Sarah, suddenly. " There he is now, or 
rather his shop." 

" Well, Sarah, you make all the discoveries to-day," laughed her 
father, as they stood and looked with amusement upon a house-fur- 
nishing store kept, as the sign said, by H. C. Andersen. " Ander- 
sen is a common enough name ; but the combination of letters is a 
coincidence." 

" Our Andersen furnished houses, I am sure," said Mrs. Van 
Wyck. " What would a house be without his stories, and especially 
without his suggestion of the animation of furniture. When I was a 
child and read about the top and darning-needle and tin soldiers and 
all the other odd little characters, I fell to making the legs of the 
chairs and sofas talk with each other and dance about. I remember 
distinctly a party in which all the parlor furniture took part, and in 
which a kitchen chair, which had got in by accident, wept bitterly 
for mortification over the treatment it received. — - But go on, 
Philip ; I interrupted you." 

" We all interrupted him," said Sarah. " Do, father, begin at the 
beginning, and tell us about Andersen's birth." 

" Don't you remember? " began that gentleman. " No, you don't, 
I remember. Well, Andersen begins his ' Story of my Life,' or 
really ' Wonder-Story,' more accurately, in these words : ' My life is 
a lovely story, happy and full of incident. If, when I was a boy, and 
went forth into the world poor and friendless, a good fairy had met 
me and said : " Choose now thy own course through life and the 
object for which thou wilt strive, and then, according to the devel- 
opment of thy mind, and as reason requires, I will guide and defend 
thee to its attainment," my fate could not, even then, have been 



ANDERSEN'S BIRTHPLACE. 177 

directed more happily, more prudently, or better.' Then he tells 
how his father was a poor shoemaker, who had made a bedstead out 
of the wooden frame which had borne the coffin of a deceased 
count ; and on this funereal bedstead, with some of the remnants 
of the black cloth still attached to the frame, Andersen was born. 
When he was still a child, his father died; and when Andersen's 
mother was married again, they moved to Monk-Mills Street, where 
they had a little, narrow garden. Now, the first thing we must 
find is Monk-Mills Street, and I think it must be near St. Knud's 
Church, for Andersen says he lived in St. Knud's parish." 

It was an easy matter to find the church, and as they walked 
about studying the signs of the streets, a little boy, who had been 
watching them, pulled off his cap, made a bow, and offered to show 
them Andersen's house, for he could readily see that the strangers 
were in search of it. They were, in fact, close by it, and Sarah, as 
usual, was the first to discover it. A little house projected a few 
feet from its neighbor, and a tablet on the projecting wall bore the 
inscription : — 

Til dette Hus 

Knytte sig 

Digteren 

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 

Kjasreste Barndoms minder. 



Odense Commune satte denne steen 

Den 2 d April 1875 

Digteren' s 70 aarige Fodselsdag. 

" Now for the English of it, Philip," said Mr. Bodley. 
" Very well, I will render it inscription-wise, and you can imagine 
the long and short lines like those on the tablet." 

12 



178 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 



With this house 

The Poet 

HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN 

associated 
The fondest recollections of his childhood. 



The Odense municipality placed this stone here 

April 2, 1875, 

The Poet's seventieth birthday. 

" Don't you — I '11 begin again. On Andersen's seventieth birth- 
day his native town was illuminated and gave him a brilliant festi- 
val. He closes his autobiography with an account of it, and reckons 
it the proudest moment of his life. An old woman in his childhood 
had prophesied that he would be a famous man and that Odense 
would be illuminated in his honor, and the prophecy came true." 

u I wonder how many old women have made similar prophecies," 
said Mrs. Van Wyck, " which have forgotten to come true. But 
how Andersen must have enjoyed the ovation." 

" He would have enjoyed it heartily, no doubt, if he had not suf- 
fered all the time from toothache. There is something very gro- 
tesque in the way in which he tells how this humiliating physical 
torture interfered with the intoxication of the hour. i I stepped to 
the open window,' he says ; ' there was a blaze of light from the 
torches ; the place was quite full of people. They sang, and I was 
overcome in my soul. I was physically overcome, indeed, and could 
not enjoy this summit of fortune in my life. The toothache was in- 
tolerable ; the icy air which rushed in at the window made it blaze 
up into a terrible pain, and in place of fully enjoying the good for- 
tune of these minutes, which never would be repeated, I looked at 



ANDERSEN'S BIRTHPLACE. 179 

the printed song to see how many verses there were to be sung 
before I could slip away from the torture which the cold air sent 
through my teeth. It was the pitch of suffering ; when the flames 
of the torches piled together sank down, then my pain decreased. 
How thankful was I to God ! '" 

" Poor fellow ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. " And how like a child to 
tell all about it ! " 

" Uncle Philip," said Charles, " what kind of shop does J. J. 
Schmidt keep ? " J. J. Schmidt was the name on the sign-board 
which decorated Andersen's house. 

" Furniture and bedclothes, Charles, as I make it out." 

" I wonder why it is," said Mrs. Van Wyck, " that houses in which 
great men have been born usually drop in the social scale." 

" That is natural enough," said her brother. " Great men usually 
are born with iron spoons in their mouths, and when we come to 
look at their houses, we drop from the height to which these great 
men have risen. Let 's go and look at St. Knud's Church. I don't 
care to go inside of a house which has been altered so much as this 
evidently has been." 

" The surroundings have been altered, rather than the house it- 
self," said Mr. Van Wyck ; " there used to be a garden, — a little 
narrow garden, and a path leading down to the river, — but here is 
a street cutting across, so that there can be no lane leading straight 
from the house to the river." 

They went to St. Knud's Church, and looked in vain for the grave 
of Andersen's father in the church-yard. The church was either 
entirely new or so restored as to show little sign of age, but in the 
crypt were many old grave-stones and tablets, some apparently re- 
moved from places they had formerly occupied. Here, also, was the 
wooden coffin of Saint Knud himself. 



180 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Phippy," said Mr. Bodley, " do you remember a visit we made, 
when children, to Newburyport ? We drove there with father and 
mother and Lucy, and Ned rode horseback." 

" I was just this moment thinking of the very journey, Nathan, 
and I know what put it into your head. You were reminded by St. 
Knud of those awful remains of Whitfield which they showed us." 

"Just so. This poor saint has the same mahogany head-piece 
that Whitfield had." 

" I should think they might have let out a tuck in his shroud." 

The shroud covered all the bones except those at the end of his 
stubby legs. The saint was under a glass cover, so that he could 
be examined easily ; and beside him was his brother, whose head 
showed even more dilapidation, being quite caved in. The rest of 
his bones were laid artlessly in a pile on the top of his shroud. 

" He was restless in the night," said Mrs. Van Wyck. 

" Do come away, Phippy," said Mrs. Bodley. " I really think this 
is not fit for the children to see." 

" Father," asked Sarah, " was the old gentleman whom we saw 
just now any relation to the King Canute who made that remark- 
able speech to his courtiers, when he sat in his rocking-chair on the 
beach ? The name sounds like it." 

" My dear child, you must leave your American style at home 
when you cross the water. Yes, Canute and Knud are all the same. 
The saint down-stairs was a grand-nephew of King Canute, or Knud, 
as the Danes call him. He meant to dispute the possession of Eng- 
land with William the Conqueror, but William succeeded in sowing 
dissension among Knud's followers, and the army and fleet never 
crossed to England. Knud was killed when kneeling before the al- 
tar in a church which stood here, and has since disappeared. His 
brother, whom we saw by his side, died defending him." 



ANDERSEN'S BIRTHPLACE. 181 

" How near we came to being Danes ! " said Charles. 

Our friends strolled about the neighborhood of the church, and to 
their delight found the spot described by Andersen in his story of 
" The Bell's Hollow," where the bell flew from the church spire and 
sank into the deepest part of the Odense River, where it still rings, 
and can be heard at times, the people say, when some one is to die. 
They went back to Andersen's house, and, keeping down the road 
which ran near it, turned toward the river again. They came upon 
a long, rambling house, which had a curious inscription over the 
door : — 

Et dobbelt nyttigt Huus som dobbelt nytte bringer 
Det laerer flittighed og Bitteriet tringer. 
Vor store Friderich vor Konge eye god 
Paa begge deele har saa viislig raadet bod. 
1752. 

" I don't remember anything about this in Andersen," said Mrs. 
Bodley, looking hard at the old house. 

" Nor I," said her brother, " unless it should be the < House of 
Correction,' which used to frighten him and fascinate him so." 

" What does the verse say, Philip ? " asked Mr, Bodley. " I can 
read the 1752 part." 

" Give me a few minutes and I will translate it for you, though 
the words don't look to me quite right." 

" You see, Blandina," said Mrs. Van Wyck, shaking her parasol 
at her, " he is getting to be a very profound scholar. He professes 
to be deep in the Odense variation of the Danish tongue." 

In a few minutes Mr. Van Wyck produced, with some doubt in 
his mind, the following lines : — 

" Twice useful is that house which double use permits, 
Lessons it gives to giddy youth, and checks the sharper wits. 



182 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

Frederick the Great, our King, as good as he was brave, 
On both these points his wisest counsel gave." 

" Rather enigmatical," said Mrs. Van Wyck, with a critical air. 
" Still it might answer for a House of Correction where boys were 
taught before they were wicked, and men were corrected after they 
were wicked. But why lug in our great, brave, and good king ? " 

" Perhaps he built the house." 

They found the river again, flowing now at the foot of some gar- 
dens, and looking very much as Andersen described it. " What sort 
of a river is it?" he asks. "Every child in the town of Odense 
knows it. It flows round the foot of the gardens, from the lochs to 
the water-mill, away under the wooden bridges. In the river grew 
yellow water-lilies, brown, feather-like reeds, and the soft, velvet- 
like bulrushes, so high and so large. Old, split willow-trees, bent 
and twisted, hang far over the water by the side of the monks' 
meadows and the bleaching greens ; but a little above is garden 
after garden, the one very different from the other : some with beau- 
tiful flowers and arbors, clean and in prim array, like dolls' villages ; 
some only filled with cabbages ; while in others there are no attempts 
at a garden to be seen at all, only great elder-trees stretching them- 
selves out, and hanging over the running water, which here and 
there is deeper than an oar can fathom." 

" This is about where Andersen must have come down from his 
house," said Mr. Van Wyck, eying the neighborhood carefully. 

" Oh, joy ! " suddenly exclaimed Mrs. Van Wyck. " Just look ! " 
and she pointed to the water near them in silent admiration. 

" The Ugly Duckling ! " said Sarah. 

To be sure ! At any rate, a brood of young ducks had taken to 
the water, and were engaged in spitefully pecking at a forlorn crea- 
ture in the party. 



A NDERSEN'S B1R THPLA CE. 



183 



" At the foot of Andersen's garden ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. 
" This was truly worth coming to Odense to see." 

They all watched the scene with the greatest interest. 

"Fortunately," said Mrs. Bodley, "I never saw a young swan, 
and so I have no scruples about believing this unfortunate little 
creature to be Andersen's Ugly Duckling." 

" How readily people have taken the story as a parable of Ander- 
sen's own life ! " said Mr. Van Wyck. " For my part, I do not be- 
lieve that he wrote the story with any suspicion of its truthfulness 




The Ugly Duckling ventures into the World. 

as a picture of his life. He may easily have seen just such a sight 
as this, have caught the fancy, and worked it out sympathetically. 
If he had thought much about himself he would very likely have 
spoiled the story by betraying his self-consciousness. After it was 
all done, and people talked about it, very likely he saw the coinci- 
dence." 



184 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

They lingered about the river, but were warned that they had 
not much time left, and so strolled back into the town. 

" What quantities of cheap shoes seem to be made here ! " said 
Charles. 

" Do you know," said his mother, " I am going to buy a pair of 
the first shoemaker I see ; " and it was not long before they came to 
a humble shop, — just such a shop, Mrs. Bodley said, as Andersen's 
father might have worked in. She bought a pair of small shoes, 
such as a child might wear, with coarse leather tops and wooden 
soles. They only cost the equivalent of twenty-five cents, and cer- 
tainly were not elegant. 

" Why did you buy those shoes, Aunt Blandina ? " asked Sarah. 

" It was a sudden freak, child. I happened to think that Ander- 
sen's earliest recollections were of his shoemaker father, and then I 
thought of his story of e The Red Shoes,' which fascinated me when 
I was a child. We had a gloomily-bound row of ' Littell's ' in the 
book-case. This story was in one of them, and I used to take it 
down and read it till I felt a cold chill creep down my back." 

" Your shoes are a rival to mine, which I got at Scheveningen," 
said Mrs. Van Wyck. " They are about the same size, only mine 
are wooden throughout." 

" But mine have the shadow of an association." 

" To be sure. And I really think we have worn Andersen pretty 
much to a shadow. Well, Denmark is a dear little country, and I 
should like to come again when Philip has learned the language per- 
fectly, — perfectly, Philip, — and travel to the sea-coast of Jut- 
land." 

" Father does know the language very well," said Sarah, stoutly. 
" We don't have a bit of trouble." 



THE END OF JOURNEYING. 185 

"That's right, Sarah. I can count on you to believe in me. 
Really, by piecing out my Danish with a little French or German 
and an occasional English word, I have made it last. You are 
right, Phippy. We must come some day and see the sand-hills of 
Jutland." 

They were rolling out of Odense now and on their way to Ny- 
borg. Again they crossed the Great Belt, and at Korsor had time 
for a good supper before they needed to take their places on board 
the Fyen, which was to carry them to Kiel. The boat was waiting 
for the Copenhagen train, and so our friends had time to stow them- 
selves away before the crowd came tramping on board, and soon 
after the steamer had got under way they were sound asleep, at the 
end of their long day. 



CHAPTER XII. 

THE END OF JOURNEYING. 



The blowing of the whistle the next morning brought our friends 
early on deck, to find that the whistle was a fog-warning whistle. 
The men were throwing the lead, and there were various signs that 
the boat was feeling its way. The dense fog forbade any view of 
the harbor, and they could make out nothing until they were se- 
curely at the dock. A walk through the streets to the station 
showed mingled signs of German and Danish occupation ; but after 
the travelers were on board the train bound for Hamburg, there 
came to be a marked change in the aspect of things. 



186 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

" Everything seems to be on a bigger scale," said Mr. Bodley. 
a T^g ra ilroad and all its equipments seem to be more solid. The 
buildings and farm-houses have the air of greater wealth and solid- 
ity. 

" Yes," said Mr. Van Wyck, " and see those great, heavily-loaded 
vans on the neighboring tracks. They give one a notion of great 
energy." 

" No wonder. We are in Germany." 

The party had been to Hamburg before, but were not sorry to 
renew old impressions. They were still more glad to enter Holland 
by the same route which they had taken at the same time the year 
before. They spent a few days in the towns, visited Belgium also, 
and then crossed to England, where they had two or three weeks 
before they should sail for home. They spent a couple of days with 
their English kinsfolk at Salisbury, and at last, upon the 28th of 
September, set sail from Liverpool in one of the steamers of the 
Allan line, bound for Quebec and Montreal. 

" It is exactly a year," said Mrs. Yan Wyck, " since we bade 
Cousin Ned good-by on this very steamer. That is, he sailed on 
the last Thursday in September, and so do we." 

" Why do we go home this way, father ? " asked Charles Bodley. 
" I should think you would sail direct for New York or for Boston." 

" Do you want to know why we chose this way ? Your mother 
and Aunt Phippy have so often expressed a desire to go home by 
land that we thought we would gratify them." 

"Nonsense, Nathan," said his wife. "You know you said you 
wanted to go by the north of Ireland, so as to see the Giant's Cause- 
way." 

" Two reasons are better than one, my dear ; we can share them 
between us." 



THE END OF JOURNEYING. 187 

" Is there less water this way ? " asked Sarah. 

" You can easily see by reference to the map that the distance 
from land to land is shorter than by any other route. Sometimes 
these steamers are only out of sight of land four days." 

" That is all very well," said Mr. Van Wyck, " if the weather is 
clear ; but I should n't like to make the Strait of Belle Isle in a 
fog." 

" Oh, we shall not have any fog at this season of the year," said 
the cheerful Mr. Bodley. 

" I '11 tell you what I should like to do," said Charles. " I 'd like 
to follow in the footprints of our Viking ancestors and skip across 
from Norway to Iceland, then from Iceland to Greenland, and then 
stumble on America." 

" What a splashing you would make if you followed in their foot- 
prints ! " said Sarah. 

" Well," said Mr. Bodley, " the route we take is the nearest to 
that. It was a good while before the early voyagers ventured to 
sail directly across the Atlantic. They either coasted down to the 
Canaries and then crossed, or they did very much what Charles 
wants to do." 

They did not see the Giant's Causeway after all, for the steamer 
passed it after dark, and they were more than four days from land 
to land, for they had head-winds and storms which delayed them ; 
but early on Friday of the week following their departure they 
were roused by a movement on deck, and found they were in sight 
of land. It was Belle Isle covered with snow. Part of the coast of 
Labrador also was visible, looking very cold and cheerless under its 
white covering. They were soon in the strait, and all the morning 
watched the land, never very far away ; but in the afternoon it be- 



188 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

gan to recede. On Saturday morning the southeast corner of Anti- 
costi came in sight, and then the steamer struck across the gulf for 
the south shore of the river St. Lawrence. The wind was blowing 
freshly from the southwest, chopping the water and causing the 
steamer to twist and stumble in a most uncomfortable fashion. At 
last in the middle of the afternoon high bluffs came in sight, and 
then everybody knew that as soon as the steamer came under shel- 
ter of them neither wind nor water would vex them much. 

So it proved. At dinner-time they were in quiet waters, steam- 
ing up the river, past little settlements which looked very winning. 

" How good this smell is ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck, sniffing the fra- 
grance of deciduous trees, brought by the breeze straight from 
shore. 

"See the brush-fires!" said Charles. "I'd like to be throwing 
branches on ! " 

It was pleasanter still the next day, Sunday. The steamer 
stopped at Rimouski to discharge mails and a few passengers, and 
then moved steadily all day up the great and beautiful river. 
There was an American brightness about the day which warmed our 
friends within and without. 

" Is n't it good to get back to America ! " said Mrs. Bodley, with 
a long sigh. 

" Indeed it is," said her husband. " I should think Europe would 
have been stifled until it found our land ! " 

" Most patriotic Nathan ! " said Mr. Van Wyck. " I am afraid it 
is only Americans who appreciate the beauty and hope of America." 

" Hark ! " said Mrs. Van Wyck. It was the evening hymn of the 
emigrants which came softly from the forward part of the steamer. 
" Poor things ! " said she, when there was silence again. " What a 
change it is to many of them ! " 



THE END OF JOURNEYING. 189 

" Poor things, Phippy ! " said her brother. " They are to be en- 
vied, not to be pitied. Think of the great meaning of this emigra- 
tion from Europe to America ! What history is in process of mak- 
ing ! Here are grandparents and grandchildren, groups of families, 
and no doubt on the passage itself are formed friendships and associ- 
ations destined to work a change in the fate and fortune of persons. 
Then consider how many steamers and sailing vessels carry just 
such companies, moving from one continent to another. It cannot 
last, I suppose, a great while upon the present scale ; but one of 
these days historians will look back upon it and make more of this 
feature of history than of kings and presidents. They will head 
their chapter ' The Great Migration/ and will tell their readers 
that it was a greater event than the descent of the Northern hordes 
upon Rome, and second only in importance to the first great migra- 
tion of the Aryan tribes." 

"Hear! hear!" said Mr. Van Wyck. "Why, Nathan, you will 
write a history yet." 

" No, no. I leave all that to Ned. Mine is the humbler task of 
interesting children in such matters." 

About nine o'clock they made a bend in the river, and began to 
discern the lights twinkling on the rock of Quebec. The rain, which 
had been falling in the early part of the evening, held up for a time 
in an accommodating fashion, and our friends all stood on the wet 
decks, with the moonlight breaking in now and then, and watched 
eagerly the signs of the end of the voyage. They could just catch 
the gleaming of the Falls of Montmorenci, but were most charmed 
by the pretty effects which the rock with its scattered lights gave. 
The steamer moved slowly toward Point Levi, and as it came to a 
halt opposite the Grand Trunk wharf its guns and those in the for- 



190 THE VIKING BODLEYS. 

tress of Quebec spoke sharply but playfully to each other, and the 
steamer sent up a succession of fiery rockets. The steamer was 
worked up to the dock and made fast. The voyage was ended. 

Here let us leave our good friends after our journeys with them 
through Holland, England, Norway, and Denmark. We knew the 
older people when they were children — when they were simply 
Nathan and Phippy and Lucy. For my part, I, the writer of these 
simple chronicles, have other friends to whom to say farewell. I 
bid good-by to the many children and their parents who have fol- 
lowed me year after year as I have set down the observations and 
thoughts which were part recollections of my own childhood, part 
the creations of a playful fancy, part the new discoveries which 
come to us when we who were children have children. This is the 
last of the Bodley Books. I can hardly dismiss them without an 
honest regret ; but other thoughts, other fancies, crowd upon me. 
It is not well to wear out one's welcome ; a hearty welcome I have 
had, and I will not be so churlish as to think it does not turn into a 
Godspeed as I enter new fields. 

Cambridge, Mass., September 5, 1884. 



THE END. 



EXCELLENT BOOKS FOR YOUNG FOLKS, 

Published by 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., Boston; 

II EAST SEVENTEENTH STREET, NEW YORK. 



^Esop's Fables. With a Life of the 

Author, and Croxall's Applications. With one 
hundred and eleven illustrations by H. W. 
Herrick. $1.00. 
A very attractive edition of this world-famous book. 

The Book of Fables, chiefly from 
iEsop. Chosen and Phrased by Horace E. 
Scudder. With illustrations by H. W. Herrick. 
40 cents.' 

Evenings at Home. By Dr. John 

Aikin and Mrs. Barbauld. Illustrated. $1.00. 

This book blends instruction and amusement so skillfully 

that for three generations it has been an unfailing source of 

interest and improvement to hundreds of thousands of boys 

and girls. 

T. B. ALDRICH. 
The Story of a Bad Boy. Fully illus- 
trated. $1.50. 

Tom Bailey has captivated all his acquaintances. He must 
be added hereafter to the boys' gallery of favorite characters, 
side by side with " Robinson Crusoe," and the " Swiss Fam- 
ily Robinson," and "Tom Brown of Rugby." — New York 
Tribune. 

An admirable specimen of what a boy's story should be. — 
Boston Advertiser. 

The Story of a Cat. An amusing 
French story, translated by T. B. Aldrich. With 
many entertaining silhouette pictures. $1.00. 



HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN. 

Stories and Tales. With illustra- 
tions. Crown 8vo, $1.00. 

Wonder Stories told for Children. 

With ninety-two illustrations by V. Pedersen 
and M. L. Stone. Crown 8vo, $1.00. 

From the first glimmer of poetic fancy in childhood until 
the last spark of child-like freshness and sympathy is extin- 
guished, there is no age which may not derive delight from 
the exquisite purity and sympathy that overlie great depths 
of meaning in these quaint stories. — Christian Union. 



TheArabianNights'Entertainments. 

A new edition, revised ; with Notes by the Rev. 
G. F. Townsend, M. A. With sixteen illustra- 
tions by Houghton, Dalziel, etc. Crown 8vo, 
gilt back and sides, $1.00. 
An improved and chastened edition was needed, which is 



here furnished, which, without essential alterations or mu- 
tilations, makes the book more suitable for family use and 
the perusal of the young. The illustrations are very good, 
and the edition, as a whole, to be preferred to any previous 
| one. — The Presbyterian. 

Six Stories from the Arabian Nights. 

Selected and edited for schools by Samuel 
Eliot, LL. D., late Superintendent of Boston 
Public Schools. Fully illustrated. i6mo, 48 
cents. 

The Pilgrim's Progress. Holiday 

Edition. Comprising in addition to the Popidar 
Edition, a Steel Portrait of Bunyan and eight 
colored plates. 8vo, full gilt, $2.50. 

Popular Edition. With Archdeacon 

Allen's Life of Bunyan (illustrated), and Ma- 
caulay's Essay on Bunyan. 62 wood-cuts. 
i2mo, $1.00. 



J. FENIMORE COOPER. 

The Cooper Stories : Being Narra- 
tives of Adventures selected from his Works. 
With illustrations by F. O. C. Darley. 

Stories of the Prairie. 
Stories of the Woods. 
Stories of the Sea. 

Per volume, $1 00 ; the set, 3 volumes, $3.00. 

In this series of " Cooper's Juveniles " the most interest- 
ing adventures in each of his leading works have been ex- 
tricated from their surroundings, and presented as separate 
and entertaining narratives. The language of the author 
has been carefully retained, save where introductory para- 
graphs have been found necessary. 



Ballads for Little Folk. By Alice 

and Phcebe Cary. Edited by Mary Clemmer. 
Illustrated. Small 4to, $1.50. 

Some of the most delightful songs for children in the lan- 
guage. — Christian Union (New York.) 

Two Years before the Mast. By 
Richard H. Dana, Jr. New and enlarged edi- 
tion. i6mo, $1.50. 
It will have the same freshness for the readers of to-day 

as for those of 1S40. 



Boston Town. 

told to Children. 



The Story of Boston 

Fully illustrated. $1.50. 



The Children's Book. A collection 

of the best stories, poems, fables, and other lit- 
erature ever written for children. Fully illus- 
trated, with frontispiece (colored) by Rosina 
Emmet. 450 pages, boards, $2.75; cloth, $3.50. 



Six Popular Tales. First Series. 

Containing : Jack the Giant-Killer, Jack and 
the Bean-Stalk, Little Red Riding-Hood, Puss 
in Boots, The Sleeping Beauty, Cinderella. 

Six Popular Tales. Second Series. 

Containing : Bluebeard, Hop-o'-my-Thumb, 
Beauty and the Beast, The Princess and the 
Nuts, Fortunatus, The History of Sir R. Whit- 
tington and his Cat. 

Selected Popular Tales. Contain- 
ing seven of the best of the stories in the two 
foregoing collections. 
Each, fully illustrated, 16 cents. 

Swiss Family Robinson. Fully il- 
lustrated. $1.00. 

What boy who has read the " Swiss Family Robinson " 
has not envied the brave and manly Fritz and Jack the ad- 
ventures they met with on that truly marvelous island ? 
What one of them would not exchange the luxuries and 
conveniences of his own home for the romance of "Tent 
House " and the " Falcon's Nest," which they have so often 
dreamed of as the headquarters of boyish romance? — Utica 
Herald. 

Poems for Children. By Celia Thax- 

ter, author of "Among the Isles of Shoals," 
" Driftweed," etc. Illustrated from designs by 
Miss A. G. Plympton. $1.50. 

A Treasury of Pleasure Books for 

Young People. With illustrations printed in 
Oil Colors. 8vo, full gilt, 7 15 cents. 

Being a Boy. By Charles Dudley 

Warner, author of " My Summer in a Garden," 
etc. Illustrated by " Champ." $1.50. 
The book is full of the dry, unexpected humor of which 
Mr. Warner is a master, and is equally delightful to boys of 
all ages from six to say sixty or seventy years. It is full of 
clever pictures, too, by " Champ," who has so fully entered 
into the authors spirit that the text and the illustrations 
seem to be necessary parts of the single whole. — New 
York Evening Post. 

No boy can help being better for reading this fine and hu- 
mane book, which must become dear to its readers, young 
or old, as a friend becomes dear. — A tlantic Monthly. 



MRS. A. D. T. WHITNEY. 



Faith Gartney's 

trated. #1.50. 

The Gayworthys. A 

Threads and Thrums. $1.50. 

Patience Strong's Outings. 



Girlhood. Illus- 
Story of 



11.50. 



Hitherto. A Story of Yesterdays. 
$1.50. 

A Summer in Leslie Goldthwaite's 

Life. Illustrated. $1.50. 

"We Girls. A Home Story. Illus- 
trated. $1.50. 

Real Folks. Illustrated. $1.50. . 

The Other Girls. Illustrated. $1.50. 

Boys at Chequasset. $1.50. 

Sights and Insights. 2 vols $3.00. 

Odd, or Even? $1.50. 

Mrs. Whitney always writes with a purpose, and her 
works go right down to the innermost soul of all earnest 
readers; and they can't help feeling strengthened and in- 
vigorated, and their souls called to duty as by the sound of 
a trumpet. There is a breezy, hearty waywith her, that 
suggests the capable, clear-sighted, energetic woman ; and 
her stories are of the highest and best order of fiction. — 
Louisville Courier-Jotimal. 

Such books as hers should be in every household, to be 
read, loaned, reread and reloaned, so long as the leaves and 
covers will hold together, — not holiday volumes for elegant 
quiet, but stirring and aggressive works, with a "mission," 
which is to make the world better than they find it. — Bos- 
ton Commonwealth. 

Mrs Whitney has succeeded in domesticating herself in 
a great number of American homes. The purity, sweetness, 
shrewdness, tenderness, humor, the elevated but still homely 
Christian faith, which find expression in her writings, en- 
dear her to thousands. — E. P. Whipple. 



J. G. WHITTIER. 

Child Life. A Collection of Poems, 

selected and edited, with an introduction, by 
J. G. Whittier. Illustrated. Full gilt, $2.25. 

Child-Life in Prose. Selected by J. 

G. Whittier. Illustrated. Full gilt, $2.25. 

These two books would constitute a library for any family 
of children, the value of which they would never cease to 
acknowledge. Parents who are forming little libraries for 
their households will do well to begin with these, even if 
their means forbid buying any others at present. — Boston 
A dvertiser. 



*#* For sale by all Booksellers. Sent by mail, post-paid, on receipt of price by the Publishers, 

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & CO., Boston, Mass. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS ^ 



020 676 615 3 




^^^^'^!'^«-r';^-v:;;^ lf -v ; i|(4rfe; 



... - 
















